


Possessio

by TazzyJan



Series: Daemones Surge [1]
Category: Les Trois Mousquetaires | The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas, The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Dom/sub, Dominance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Past Rape/Non-con, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Spanking, Supernatural Elements, Suspense, Threesome - M/M/M, Urination, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-04-26 05:16:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 63
Words: 198,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4991596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TazzyJan/pseuds/TazzyJan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Musketeers are sent to investigate strange happenings at a small village that are much more sinister than they could ever imagine.  At the same time Athos is struggling to come to grips with his growing feelings for Aramis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Possessio

 _“Hope not ever to see Heaven. I have come to lead you to the_  
_other shore; into eternal darkness; into fire and into ice.”  
― Dante Alighieri, Inferno_

 

The wind whipped through the abandoned halls, ruffling moth-eaten drapery and blowing curled, brown leaves across the stone floor. The old church had certainly seen better days. There was a time when it had housed a vicar and provided a place for the faithful to gather. Those days, however, had long passed. Any priest who came here now soon left and the villagers knew to give the place a wide berth. Bad things happened to people when they didn’t. Very bad things.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“We have our orders, gentlemen,” Athos said as he joined his three companions awaiting him in the courtyard. “Strange things have been reported near the town of Flamare. We are to travel there at once and investigate.”

“Flamare, you say?” Aramis asked. 

“Yes, why? Are you familiar with this place?” 

“I was stationed there for a time, when I was still with the priesthood,” he explained with a shrug.

Gathering their gear, the four men set out at once. Flamare was a day and a half ride from Paris which meant finding an inn for the night or camping near the road. If the weather held, Athos would prefer to forego the inn for once. It would mean no access to alcohol for him, but it would also mean no access to any willing females for Aramis. Even as he thought it, Athos admonished himself. He had no claim to the other man. Had made no move to make his interest known. Aramis was free to spend his time with whomever he wished. Athos just wished that person was him. 

“Athos?” Porthos called, concern clear in his voice. From the way his brow was furrowed it was obviously not the first time he had called his name. 

“Sorry, my friend. I was lost in thought for a moment. Let us be off.” With that, he spurred his horse toward the gate before Porthos could question him further. He knew it was unlikely the other man would simply let his lapse pass without further comment but he could deal with that later. 

Hours later, the sun was just starting to dip below the horizon. “Shall we pick up the pace and make for the next inn?” D’Artagnan asked as he rode up beside Athos. 

“Tis a nice enough night,” Athos replied with a shrug. “It would do us no harm to sleep under the stars.”

“Fair enough,” Aramis called out as he began to ride ahead. “I shall look for someplace suitable then. Come along as it suits you.”

The others laughed as Aramis rode ahead then Porthos rode up beside the other two. “Ride with him, Whelp,” he said, “lest he get himself lost.” D’Artagnan’s eyes flashed between Porthos and Athos then he dipped his head and was off, riding in the direction Aramis had gone and calling after him to wait.

Athos had stiffened imperceptibly when Porthos rode up. His muscles tightened even more when he sent the boy away. He would want answers now and Athos was unsure what exactly to tell him. 

“What is going on with you, my friend?” Porthos asked quietly. He and Aramis had been growing more and more concerned about Athos for weeks now. Today’s bout of daydreaming was the last straw. Something was troubling him and Porthos was determined to help his friend however he could.

“It is nothing, Porthos,” Athos tried, knowing that it would be in vain but hoping nonetheless. 

“Do not lie to me, Athos,” Porthos told him. “We are worried about you. Aramis and I have noticed a change in you of late and it is troubling. You know there is nothing you cannot tell us. We will help you in any way we are able. But you must talk to us before we can do so.”

“I know. And I thank you, I do. But this… you cannot help me with this. No one can.”

“So there is something then?” Porthos pushed, seeing the opening and pressing it ruthlessly.

Athos wanted to kick himself. Sighing wearily he replied, “Yes. But there is nothing to be done for it. Do not worry yourself. It is nothing more than… than an impossible dream. I am sorry I have let it interfere so much of late. I shall endeavor to do better.” 

“So tell me what this impossible dream is that you speak of,” Porthos continued on relentlessly. “It is not like you to be long for something you truly feel is pointless. Perhaps it is not as impossible as you think.”

“Believe me, it is,” Athos insisted. 

“Well,” Porthos mused then grinned widely. “If it is so impossible then there is no reason not to tell me.”

“You are not going to let this go, are you?” Athos asked resignedly.

“You know I am not.”

“Very well. I believe I have fallen in love,” Athos stated simply. When Porthos went to reply, he held up his hand to stop him. “And before you say it, yes, it is impossible. The person does not return my affections. He never has and he never will so please just leave it alone.” With that, Athos dug his heels into his horse, spurring it forward. Maybe now Porthos would leave him be.

As for Porthos, he sat stunned as he watched Athos ride off after their companions. _He._ Athos had said he. His friend’s impossible love was another man. Well damn. It looked like Athos might be right after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

Athos found Aramis and D’Artagnan setting up camp next to a small stream. He nodded his approval and dismounted, refusing to let his squabble with Porthos sour his mood. He was just getting ready to send the boy back after the other man when Porthos entered their small campsite. He did not miss the look that Aramis shot the man and knew he would be seeking answers. Athos did not think his friends would judge him too harshly but Aramis’ religion was very dear to him and sodomy was an offense punishable by death.

“What’s going on?” D’Artagnan asked as he sat down beside Athos and began building a fire. He could see the tension in his friend’s body and had not missed the look that passed between the other two members of their party. 

“Tis nothing,” Athos replied. When the young man merely looked at him, he sighed. “Porthos and I had a bit of a disagreement. It is nothing to worry about. All will be right again come morning, I am sure.”

“Alright, but we are here for you if you have need of us.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“So what happened?” Aramis asked once he and Porthos were able to slip away unseen. He held no illusions that Athos was not aware of exactly where they were and what they were doing but the damnable man would not **_talk_** to them.

Porthos sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. He was not sure he should share his findings with Aramis. They were bound to bring up certain demons from his past and Porthos had no wish to hurt him in such a way.

“Porthos?” Aramis queried when his friend remained silent. His concern was steadily growing and he was about to go and shake some answers out of Athos if need be.

“He told me what’s been botherin’ him so much,” Porthos said at last. 

“He did?” He waited expectantly for Porthos to continue, when he did not Aramis felt the blood drain from his face. “Is he… is he ill?” He knew of nothing else that Athos might strive so hard to keep from them. 

“No,” Porthos rushed to assure him. He reached out a steadying hand and grasped Aramis’ arm. “He is not sick. Not of the body at least.”

“Not of the body? Wha…? Speak plainly, Porthos!”

“I do not wish to upset you, my friend,” Porthos said softly, gripping Aramis’ arm hard. “There are things that Athos shared with me that you may find… distressing.”

Aramis squared his shoulders and looked hard at Porthos. “Tell me what is wrong with our brother, Porthos, and tell me now.” There was no mistaking the command in those words and Porthos knew he had little choice but to heed them. 

“He is heartsick,” Porthos said, choosing his words as carefully as he could. “He is in love and the one he loves does not return his affections, although I do not know if he has ever approached this person directly to find out.”

“And why exactly did you think I might find that distressing?” Aramis pressed. He knew there was more that Porthos was holding back. This was not simply a case of unrequited love. Athos would never have kept something so simple from them.

“Because the object of his affections is another man.”

Silence hung in the air between them for long moments. “Oh,” Aramis said at last. Now he understood why Porthos had been so hesitant to tell him. Still, he knew that his single experience with another man was not necessarily the norm and he **knew** that Athos would never… never **_force_** himself on another…

“Aramis,” Porthos called, giving him a little shake. “Do not get lost in your head, my friend. Leave those memories in the past where they belong.”

“Right, right,” Aramis said, shaking himself out of his thoughts. “Athos is nothing like… he would never…”

“No, he would not,” Porthos agreed, glad to see some color returning to Aramis’ face. 

“But what of this other man?” Aramis asked at once. “What do we know of him?”

“I do not even know his name,” Porthos admitted. “Athos did not tell me.”

“We must find out,” Aramis cried out. “We must do so at once! How else are we to know if he… if he is safe for Athos. We must be sure, Porthos. We cannot risk…”

“Shhh… calm yourself, Aramis,” Porthos said. He pulled his friend against his chest and simply held him. This was why he had not wanted to tell Aramis. All of those old fears, the ones he had worked so hard to help Aramis overcome, were all rushing back. 

“Please, Porthos. We need to talk to him,” Aramis whispered into the other man’s chest. “He needs to know to be careful. That… that…”

“We will,” Porthos told him, cutting him off before he could work himself up again. “Let me send the Whelp out to catch us some dinner or somethin’ and we can talk to him. Okay?”

“Yes, alright,” Aramis said, calming greatly now that he knew they were not simply going to leave Athos on his own in this. “Do you think it wise to send the boy off?”

“Athos isn’t gonna be happy with us knowin’. He’s not gonna want the Whelp to know, too. Not now at least. If somethin’ comes of it, then maybe.” Porthos shrugged. He remembered how insistent Athos was that the man he cared for would never return his affections. He had to wonder, though, if Athos had ever approached the man to find out. People could be pretty tight-lipped about that sort of thing, it being a capital offense and all. Porthos knew it was a lot to risk. If Athos approached the man and was wrong he would feel humiliated. Worse, he could find himself arrested again if the man took great enough offense.

They returned to the campsite, determined to talk to Athos about his revelation. They joined their comrades by the fire and Porthos threw D’Artagnan a sack. “Go catch us some dinner, Whelp,” he said.

D’Artagnan looked at Athos, silently asking the other man if he wanted him to stay or go. Athos had said they had fought. If he did not want to be alone with Porthos then he would stay. 

“It’s alright, D’Artagnan,” Athos said, smiling fondly. “Go on. You know how Porthos gets when he’s hungry.”

They watched the youngest member of their group head into the forest. Once he was out of sight, the two men sat down side by side in front of Athos. “I take it he told you then,” Athos said, his voice resigned in a way that neither man had ever heard before.

“Yes, he told me,” Aramis replied.

“Then the only question is whether or not you wish the Captain to reassign me,” Athos said. “I would have you keep the boy with you. When it comes to light why you no longer wish to associate with me, it will only do him harm.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” Porthos growled. 

“I had assumed Aramis would no longer wish to ride with me. And where Aramis goes, you follow.”

“You’re a fool,” Porthos spat then turned to Aramis. “Tell him he’s a fool.”

“You’re a fool,” Aramis replied dutifully, though he truly meant it. “Athos, why would you think I would no longer ride by your side?”

“You are taught that sodomites are evil are you not?”

“Yes, the church does teach that,” Aramis admitted. “But I do not believe everything the church teaches to be true. I do not believe that God would find love wrong, regardless of the form it takes.”

“It is also a crime,” Athos argued.

“As are many things that are no one else’s business,” Aramis agreed. “And yet, things that should be crimes are not.”

“You truly do not find this wrong?” Athos asked, unable to keep the hope from either his voice or his eyes. 

“I truly do not,” Aramis replied solemnly. “But…”

“But?” Athos frowned.

“You must be **_careful_** , Athos,” Aramis insisted, causing Porthos to stiffen beside him. He did not think that Athos was aware of what had happened to Aramis and was unsure how his friend would react.

Athos frowned at Aramis earnest words. He looked back and forth between the pair. He had never seen Aramis so agitated before and was at a loss as to why. “I do not understand,” he said at last. “Explain it to me, my friend.”

“Not all men are… are good like you,” Aramis began to explain. He licked his lips nervously and glanced at Porthos. The other man reached out and gripped his hand in encouragement and Aramis rushed on. “Some men… they will… that is… they may try to… to… hurt you. You must be very, very careful. Porthos said you did not tell him who this man is that you so care for. You have to tell us. You have to so that we can make sure he is of sufficient character and will not… will not try…”

“Aramis,” Athos said, unable to bear any more of his friend’s broken words. He could see how much they pained Aramis to speak them. “He is of good character, I promise. He is of the very best character actually.”

“Well of course you would think that, you are enamored of him. You must tell us who he is, Athos. We must see for ourselves that he will not attempt to do you harm in such a way.”

“Aramis,” Athos began and then paused. A thought occurred to him and he shuddered. He closed his eyes for a moment and then forced himself to ask the question that had suddenly come to him. “Aramis, has someone hurt **you** in such a way?”

Aramis looked away then, all at once unable to meet Athos’ eyes. He hated appearing weak to anyway but Athos was the absolute worst. “No,” he replied once he could get his mouth to form words again. “I got away.”

For a moment, right after Aramis had uttered ‘no’, Athos had begun to relax. He really should have known better. He felt his insides turn to ice and then fire and his hands balled into fists. “Does he still live?” he asked, his voice as low and deadly as either man had ever heard it before.

“Do you think I would have allowed such a thing?” Porthos shot back, angry that Athos would even ask.

“You knew of this?” Athos demanded, his eyes flashing. 

“I did.”

“Why did you not tell me?” Athos asked, some of the fight going out of him. The underlying tone of hurt in his voice was unmistakable. “Did you think I would not understand?”

“I… I did not wish to appear weak to you,” Aramis admitted softly. “And… well… 

“Well, what?” Athos urged when Aramis fell silent. Aramis was staring resolutely at the ground, refusing to look anywhere near him. “Aramis, look at me. Well what?”

“I just… I could not have borne it if you… if you thought I had somehow brought it on myself. I mean, I did. I know I did. Just desserts, as they say. But to have heard that from you then would have been the end of me.”

“What?” The word feels like it is punched out of Athos’ stomach along with all of the air in his lungs. “You think I would have blamed you? You think I would have taken one look at you, at my brother, at the man I love better than any other and seen him hurt and afraid and felt **anything** other than all-consuming rage?”

Athos moved forward then, the scant feet between them suddenly too far. He slid to the ground and walked the short distance on his knees. When he was in front of Aramis, he took his free hand in both of his, noticing how it trembled slightly. “You think I would not have hunted the monster down who hurt you and then spent days making him scream until he begged me to kill him?”

“Athos…”

“I would have,” Athos told him. “Would still, if Porthos had not already done so. I’ll not be forgiving you for that, by the way.”

“Do not blame Porthos,” Aramis said, coming back to himself a bit. “I would not let him say anything.”

“As you wish,” Athos agreed, eager to agree to anything that might set Aramis’ mind at ease again. He moved to pull away, to once again return to his place across from them but Aramis turned his hand and seized onto Athos’ wrist, refusing to let go.

“You still must tell us,” Aramis urged. “We must make sure. Now you understand why…”

“Aramis…” Porthos began then hesitated. He looked at Athos, took in the look on his face, the way he held onto Aramis’ hand and he understood. “I think he just did.”

Athos froze. He stared at the two men like a deer caught in a hunter’s sights. He did not know what to do. Part of him wanted to deny Porthos’ words but he refused to lie to his friends. 

“He did?” Aramis frowned, trying to recall when Athos might have let something slip.

“'The man he loves better than any other' ring a bell?” Porthos supplied, causing Aramis to tighten his grip and Athos to flinch.

“Me?” Aramis sounded so surprised that Athos’ hazarded a glance at him. The look on his face could only be described as wary. Athos could understand that, especially given what they had just been discussing. When he stole a glance at Porthos, however, he felt like he’d been slapped. The man’s face was thunderous. If Athos did not trust him with his life he would be very afraid right now.

“Do not worry, dear Aramis,” Athos said, gently extricating his hand and moving back to his original seat. “Unlike others, I do not force my affections where they are not wanted. You have nothing to fear from me and you never will.”


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

“Of course I have nothing to fear from you,” Aramis said, still a bit stunned by Athos’ revelation. He saw the guarded way Athos looked at him and how his eyes kept darting to Porthos and away again. When Aramis turned to look at Porthos himself, he understood why. “Stop it, Porthos. He will not hurt me. Athos would never do anything to hurt me. You should know that by now.”

Porthos looked away, chastised and a bit ashamed of how he had reacted. He knew Aramis was right. Athos would never hurt him. He would never try to force him or even try to talk him into something he might not be ready for. Athos took care of his brothers. For a moment, Porthos had forgotten that. “I’m sorry,” he said gruffly, looking anywhere but at Athos. 

“It is alright,” Athos told him, his voice showing none of the hurt he felt. “Do not apologize for protecting him. Even from me.”

“Don’t need protectin’ from you,” Porthos told him. “Don’t need protectin’ from a brother.”

“Yes, well, you weren’t exactly looking at me as a brother just then. You saw me only as a man that desired him and you simply wanted to ensure that I knew my affections were unwanted. Need I ask again if the two of you still wish to ride with me?”

The fact that Porthos looked to Aramis rather than giving an answer should not have hurt. Athos knew this was the likely outcome should his unnatural desires ever be fully known. Still, to lose the only family he had left was like a giant gaping wound that he knew would never heal. 

“Very well then,” he said when both men failed to speak. “Can we complete this last mission together or would you rather I ride back to the garrison at once?”

“Stop it,” Aramis spat, his voice more like that of an angry cat than a full grown Musketeer. “Of course we still wish to ride with you. You are our brother. No matter what else you may or may not be, that does not change.”

“And what say you, Porthos?” Athos asked, needing to hear the other man say it. “Do you still consider me a brother as well?”

Porthos swallowed thickly. “You know damn well I do.”

“If I knew, I would not have needed to ask,” Athos told him, letting a sliver of the pain he had felt filter through.

“I’m sorry, Athos,” Porthos said then, genuine sorrow making his voice thick. “I don’t mean to hurt you and I don’t mean to make you doubt me… doubt your place here with us.”

“Don’t worry overmuch about it,” Athos shrugged. He was trying to appear unaffected but was having little success. “I already told you, you do not need to apologize for trying to protect him.”

“I do when I end up hurtin’ you instead,” Porthos argued. 

“Better me than him.”

“My God. You really believe that,” Aramis said, stunned. He stared at Athos then shook his head vehemently. “No, Athos, it is not better that you be hurt than I. It is not better **_at all_**. This is my fault. If I had not been such a mess after… after what happened…”

“No,” Athos said, his voice soft but firm. “This is in no way your fault. And I dare any man to be so brutalized and not be a mess afterwards as you put it.”

“I was not brutalized,” Aramis denied.

“Were you not?” came the gentle reply.

“I got away.”

“Just because you escaped the more… physical aspects of what was attempted does not mean you escaped unharmed. I believe Porthos could bear witness to that.”

“Yeah,” Porthos whispered. He reached out and took Aramis’ hand again, unsure when he had let go of it the first time, only knowing that he needed the contact now. Considering how hard Aramis returned the grip, he suspected they both did. He stretched his free hand out, wanting to pull Athos in closer to them to try to undo some of the damage he had done. Athos, however, stood instead and took a step back.

“Ah, D’Artagnan, I see you have returned to us,” he called out as falsely cheerful as he could manage. “I was just about to come looking for you.”

“No need,” the younger man called back. “I was not far. Just wanted to make sure you all had enough time to work out whatever the problem was. You did have enough time, right?”

“Just so,” Athos said with a nod. “Come and rest a bit. I think I’ll take a walk around our perimeter. Wouldn’t due to get caught out unawares.”

D’Artagnan dropped down across from the other two men, oblivious to the turmoil he had just walked into. “I think I saw a good spot to post a look-out,” he said as he began pulling rabbits from a sack. “Should give a clear view of both the road and campsite and still afford some cover.”

“I’ll give it a look. My thanks, lad.”

“Athos, wait!” Aramis called suddenly as he sprang lightly to his feet. “I’ll walk with you.”

“Tis unnecessary, my friend. I am merely in need of stretching my legs. I shall not be long.” Athos turned to leave again, just wanting a few minutes of solitude to get himself back under control. 

“Surely you would not deny me the pleasure of your company,” Aramis insisted, his voice was light and playful, much the same as it was whenever he and Porthos were plotting some mischief. “Come now, Athos. You know how the sight of rabbit intestines grieves me.”

“Very well,” Athos relented. It was clear that Aramis wished to speak with him alone. Or perhaps he simply wanted to prove that he was not afraid to be alone in his presence. Either way, Athos did not have it in him to deny him. “We would not want such a delicate flower as yourself to swoon. Come along. We shall investigate the look-out the lad found and see if it will suit our needs for the night.”

They walked side by side in companionable silence. Athos scouted their perimeter as he said he wanted to, noting nothing that looked like it would pose any problem should they have to leave with haste. A few moments later, Aramis tapped his shoulder and pointed to a nearby outcropping of rocks that was partially hidden from the road by trees. “Boy’s got good eyes,” Aramis said.

“That he does,” Athos agreed. “Care to give it a look?”

“Love to,” Aramis grinned. He finally felt at ease again, the last vestiges of his prior fears fading away. He knew he was safe with Athos. Come what may, he would always be safe with this man. That fact alone gave him the courage to even consider what Athos might want to have with him. 

The outcropping turned out to have a small hollow within, affording natural protection from the elements. There was room enough for one man, but barely for two and the men found themselves nearly pressed against one another as they gave the space a brief looking over. “Should do just fine,” Aramis said, his voice a bit thicker than he would have liked. 

Athos had not missed the slight hitch in his friend’s voice. He reached up and clasped Aramis’ arm, trying to reassure him. The stone pressing into his back prevented him from giving Aramis any more space so he simply gripped his arm and stilled.

Aramis felt like time had somehow slowed. Athos was so close he could feel the heat of the man’s body through their clothes. He licked his lips and did not miss the way Athos’ eyes flickered to them then back to his eyes once more, the grip on his arm tightening almost imperceptibly as he did so. Telling himself again that this was Athos and he was safe, Aramis leaned forward and brought his lips against the others in a gentle kiss.

Athos stood stunned. The hand holding on to Aramis’ arm tightened of its own volition then reality came sweeping back in a rush that had him jerking back hard enough to slam his head into the stone wall behind him. He staggered forward, clutching the back of his head and heading for the mouth of the hollow. He needed air and space and light and he needed them now. 

Once he was outside and a few feet away from the outcropping, he bent over, bracing his arms on his thighs and simply tried to breathe. He wanted to run, to get as far away as he could but he could not abandon Aramis… Aramis, who he had somehow made kiss him, though for the very life of him he had no idea how. Porthos was going to have his head when he found out. A surge of laughter bubbled up from inside of him, though it sounded like anything but when it passed his lips. At least he would be spared having to request reassignment from the Captain. 

A hand was suddenly on his back and Athos started so badly he nearly fell. “Easy, Athos,” Aramis whispered as he gripped his friend’s arm to keep him on his feet. “Just breathe. That’s it. Nice and slow now. Better?”

Athos nodded, not trusting himself to speak yet. He did not know what to say regardless. Perhaps Porthos had been right in glaring daggers at him after all.

“I thought I was the one that was supposed to be frightened of all this,” Aramis teased lightly, trying to defuse the situation and help calm Athos.

Athos flinched instead at the reminder of Aramis’ fears. “I am sorry,” he said at last.

“Athos, please,” Aramis plead, shaking the man gently and trying to get him to at least look at him. 

Straightening at last, Athos looked at his friend. He could see the concern in his eyes and it made him feel that much worse. Aramis should not be concerned for him. “I am sorry,” he said again. “I did not mean to make you do that. I do not know what I did that… that made you think you had to… to do such a thing but…”

“Athos,” Aramis cut him off, exasperation clear in his voice. “You did not **_force_** me to do anything. I did that… I kissed you because I _wanted_ to. Because I trust you and I… I wanted to see what it would be like. I did not mean to send you running from me.”

“You’re not the one I’m running from,” Athos assured him. “And I doubt if Porthos will believe that you kissed me solely because you wanted to.”

“Porthos means well and he has every right to be concerned, but he does not make my decisions for me, nor does he censure my love life.” Aramis saw the way Athos frowned and reached out to him again. “I know you do not wish to cause any discontent amongst us. I do not either. Porthos will not be angry with you, only worried for me. It is not your intent that is in question but my ability to leave the past where it belongs for once.”

“We are none of us so good at that I am afraid.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if I like where this went in the end... I had two different directions and this is the one that came out.

Part 4

“So,” D’Artagnan began after tossing one of the rabbits to Porthos to begin cleaning. 

“Yeah?” Porthos replied when the boy failed to continue.

“Is this one of those things I’m supposed to pretend I don’t notice?” he asked bluntly. Porthos normally appreciated that sort of approach. 

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Porthos grumbled as he slit into the rabbit’s belly a bit more forcefully than necessary.

“If you ruin that meat, you can go out hunting for more,” D’Artagnan warned him. 

Porthos looked up in surprise at the Whelp’s rebuke then laughed. The boy was a brave one alright. “Yeah, yeah,” he replied, but he did pay a bit more attention to what he was doing. 

“I’ll not mention it again,” D’Artagnan assured him.

“Whelp…” Porthos began but the younger man cut him off.

“Everyone is entitled to their privacy, Porthos. Even brothers. If Athos wishes to tell me, he will. If not, then I will respect his wishes and shall not pry. Just… just tell him that, whatever it is, I will stand beside him come what may.”

Porthos could not speak at first, the boy’s earnest words making it impossible. When he was finally able to, his voice came out strained. “You’re a good lad, D’Artagnan.”

“Well,” he replied, coloring slightly at the compliment. “I have had some very good teachers of late.”

By the time Athos and Aramis made it back to their campsite, the rabbits were roasting over the fire as D’Artagnan kept a watchful eye on them. He had started to ask Porthos to do it, but had seen how distracted the man was. Wanting to eat neither burnt nor raw meat, he had opted to do the cooking himself this time.

“Look, Athos,” Aramis called out when he saw D’Artagnan by the fire. “Not only did our young Gascon hunt down our dinner but he is preparing it for us as well. Whatever have we done to deserve such fine treatment?”

“I am sure I do not know,” Athos replied as he sat down next to the younger man, leaving Aramis to move next to Porthos. “Thank you, lad. You did not have to cook as well.”

D’Artagnan shrugged. “Thought it best. Porthos seemed a bit distracted.”

“Just so,” Athos replied softly. He could well imagine just how distracted Porthos had been with Aramis out there all alone with him. 

“You alright?” D’Artagnan asked when Athos fell silent.

“I am fine. Merely tired. Would you mind if I rested until dinner is ready?”

“Of course not,” the younger man replied quickly. He knew Athos was not being entirely truthful with him but he was not going to press. He meant what he had said to Porthos earlier. If Athos did not want to tell him what was going on, then he would not pry. He trusted his brothers, secrets and all.

“The outlook the boy found any good?” Porthos asked once Aramis was seated beside him. It wasn’t the question he wanted to ask but it was one of the only ones safe to do so right now. 

“Very,” Aramis grinned. “You have excellent eyes, D’Artagnan. A man can sit concealed from view and the elements and still monitor both the road and the camp. Well done.”

The younger man blushed at the rather effusive praise but his shoulders stood a bit straighter and there was a smile on his lips as he tended to their dinner. He could practically feel Athos grinning off to the side of him as well and that made him feel even prouder. He had nothing but the greatest respect for these men and pleasing them always left him with his own feeling of pleasure inside.

“Don’t let it go to your head, boy,” Athos teased gently, knowing he would not take it the wrong way. While they may still be learning each other, they could speak freely now without fear of offense. “One Musketeer with an over-inflated ego is as much as the regiment can bear.”

Aramis feigned a gasp and grabbed onto Porthos’ arm as if he might fall over. “Porthos! You don’t think he means me do you?” 

Porthos laughed and used Aramis’ grip on his arm to haul the other man close up against him. He draped his arm around his shoulders, keeping him in close to his side. He relaxed when Aramis sighed and settled down into him, accepting the embrace.

The others watched them fondly from across the fire, though Athos may have felt a small flare of jealousy at the sight of Porthos being so easily familiar with the other man. But he quashed that feeling as quickly as it came. Aramis and Porthos had always been close. They always would be if Athos had anything to say about it – no matter how much it might sting and make his heart long.

“Aramis is not wrong, though,” Athos said when he finally managed to tear his eyes away from the pair. “You have a keen eye. Perhaps he should start training you with a musket. There is, after all, none better than Aramis in all of France for that sort of thing.”

“I didn’t know his _musket_ was what he was known all over France for,” D’Artagnan muttered. Years of being soldiers had given the others keen hearing, however, and they sat in stunned silence before bursting into raucous laughter. 

“Even the… even the **Whelp** knows your measure,” Porthos gasped when his laughter finally died down.

“Ha ha,” Aramis replied good-naturedly. Even he had to admit it had been funny.

“Sorry, Aramis.”

“Don’t be, lad. I happen to be known all over France for that, as well.”

Dinner was a companionable affair with talk and laughter and gentle teasing. When it was done, they sat around the fire, enjoying the stillness of the night around them. After a bit, Athos rose and began gathering his things. “You three rest. I’m going up to D’Artagnan’s lookout.”

“What… all night?” the youngest one of them asked.

Athos simply nodded and bent down to grab his weapons. 

“It’s why he was resting before we ate,” Porthos said. 

“But wouldn’t it make more sense to take it in shifts?” he asked.

“If we were in danger then yes,” Athos replied. “But we are relatively safe here.” D’Artagnan opened his mouth to reply but Athos held up his hand. “The decision to forego an inn was mine. My brothers shall not lose sleep needlessly because of it. Now rest. I shall see you all at first light.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand him,” D’Artagnan said as Athos walked away.

“You will,” Aramis assured him. “In time, you will. You will find that there are times when Athos needs solitude to think. I believe this to be one of those times. Though even if that were not the case, I believe he would have done exactly the same thing.”

After adding wood to the fire to ensure it would burn through the night, D’Artagnan moved to the other side of it and lay down. He knew it was not much, but it was all the privacy he could give the other two considering where they were. He did not think Athos would appreciate it if he went off alone somewhere.

“Is he alright?” Aramis asked after their youngest had distanced himself from them.

“Yeah,” Porthos whispered. “Think he’s just tryin’ to give us some privacy. He knows I was kinda on edge while you were gone.”

“Does he know?” Aramis asked worriedly.

“No,” Porthos told him. “Athos’ place to tell him that. Boy said he understood a man sometimes had secrets he might not want to share, even with his brothers, and that was okay. Said to tell Athos that, whatever it was, the boy would stand with him.”

“He has a good heart,” Aramis murmured.

“He does,” Porthos replied. He hesitated then, unsure what to say. He wanted to ask Aramis what had gone on during his walk with Athos. His friend did not seem distressed but there was something in the man’s eyes that troubled him. 

“Ask your questions, Porthos,” Aramis whispered into the dark. “I will answer them as always. But you must promise me to listen to the entire answer before passing judgement.”

“There gonna be somethin’ for me to pass judgement on?” Porthos asked warily.

“In your mind,” Aramis responded.

“Maybe we should wait for Athos to be back before we talk about this,” Porthos said, his concern mounting.

“I actually prefer him safely tucked away in D’Artagnan’s lookout where he can see you coming,” Aramis replied. He felt Porthos go absolutely still beside him and sighed. He turned on his side so he could look at his friend and reached out to rest a hand on the man’s chest. He could feel the rapid breaths Porthos was taking in an attempt to calm himself and Aramis began to stroke his chest lightly.

“Did he hurt you?” Porthos asked. Aramis didn’t act like he’d been hurt but Aramis could trick the devil in hell if he wanted to.

“No. He did not hurt me. Nor did he frighten me in any way. I daresay I frightened him.”

“Please… you’re not makin’ any sense. Just tell me what happened.”

“I kissed him,” Aramis said softly.

The air seemed to leave Porthos in a rush, as if he’d been punched hard in the stomach. He grabbed Aramis’ hand that was still stroking his chest and stilled it. All at once, he jerked Aramis toward him so that the man was pressed up flush against his side with his head on Porthos’ chest. “Why?” he growled out, needing to know if Athos had somehow coerced him into it.

“Because I wanted to,” Aramis replied calmly. “It was Athos and I was safe and I wanted to so I did. And then he jerked away from me so hard he brained himself and fled.”

“He left you there?” Porthos demanded, hotly. He was so confused at the moment he didn’t know what to do. Aramis did not seem distressed in any way. He assured him that he instigated the act, not Athos, but, for the moment, all Porthos could see was Aramis, bruised and bloodied and terrified, cowering in a corner. 

“Porthos… Porthos, come back to me,” Aramis called. Aramis was shaking him by the shoulder and when Porthos’ blinked and looked at him, he breathed a sigh of relief. “I think you got lost for a moment there, my friend.”

“Yeah,” Porthos admitted. “Think I did, too.”

Aramis wound his arm around him then and held him, letting Porthos hold him back and reassure himself that he was alright. “To answer your earlier question, he did not run far. He only wished to put some little space between us. He thought… you see, he thought he had somehow forced me to do that. I told him much the same thing I told you. That I did it because I wanted to and because I felt safe enough to try.”

“Is that really why you did it? Or were you just tryin’ to please Athos?” Porthos knew how much Aramis loved to please people. It was one of the reasons he had so many lovers. He lived off the praise he got from them. Praise he received from Athos was singularly divine to him and he sought after it as much as decorum would allow.

“Would it truly matter if I did?” Aramis asked, curious as to Porthos’ opinion on the matter. His friend had calmed considerably for which he was quite grateful. The very last thing he had wanted was for him and D’Artagnan to have to try to stop Porthos from storming off after Athos to try to kill him. 

“For you, maybe not,” Porthos shrugged. “You said you felt safe so that might be enough. But for Athos, it would be cruel. Imagine how he’d feel when he found out. Because he would. Eventually, he’d figure it out. That you were just doin’ it to please him, not for yourself. That lady of his may not have killed him when she betrayed him but I’m pretty sure this would.”

“I… I did not think,” Aramis gasped. He shuddered in Porthos’ arms as his friend’s words took shape inside his mind. He remembered how dead Athos’ eyes used to look when they were first together. He never wanted to see that dead look in his eyes again, let alone be the one to put it there. 

“Shhh…” Porthos soothed, rubbing his hand up and down Aramis’ back as he shook slightly. He had not meant to upset him this bad, he just wanted him to think for once. 

“I will make sure,” Aramis vowed. “I will make sure it is what I want first. That I am not doing it just to please him. I will not hurt him like that.”

Both men fell silent after that but neither made any attempt to move away. It was not unheard of for them to wake up wound around each other and none of them thought anything of it. After a long while of enjoying both giving comfort and being comforted in return, Aramis chuckled. 

“What?” Porthos prompted.

“I would have thought you would have more objections than this.”

“Oh, I got objections. I got lots of objections. But I ain’t makin’ those objections to you. I’ll make my objections known to Athos come morning, don’t you worry.”

Aramis thrust himself up on one arm and stared down at Porthos in shock and hurt. “You would do that? To him? To **me**?”

“What is it, exactly, that you think I’m gonna do to him?”

“Tell him that he cannot have me,” Aramis said, dropping back down onto Porthos as if all of his strength had suddenly left him. “Tell him that we cannot even try. That I too damaged to even attempt it.”

“That is NOT what I’m gonna do, you hear me?” Porthos growled, barely remembering to keep his voice low lest he wake D’Artagnan. “I’m just gonna tell him to be careful. Tell him some of the signs to look out for so he knows if he’s pushin’ you too fast is all. And let him know that if he hurts you, I’ll tear him apart with my bare hands.”


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5

Athos headed back to the campsite just before dawn. He had watched Porthos rise and begin moving carefully about the camp. He had watched them during the night as well, their bodies mere shapes in the flickering firelight, but familiar enough for him to be able to make them out. There had been a moment when he thought Porthos meant to rise, the big man going suddenly taut and still. Aramis, however, had been able to soothe him and he had remained where he was with the smaller man tucked safely up against him. 

He was not surprised to find Porthos leaning against a tree as he neared. It seemed the man had something to say to him that he did not wish Aramis to hear. That was fair enough. Porthos was Aramis’ closest friend as well as Athos’ own. He would give the man the respect those titles warranted.

“Mornin’,” Porthos’ greeted him when Athos neared. He was trying his best not to appear threatening. He remembered Aramis’ concerns from the night before and did not want to seem like he was trying to scare him off. Though if he was that easily dissuaded then perhaps he did not want this thing with Aramis half as much as he thought he did.

“Good morning,” Athos replied, setting his gear down and raising back up to face his friend. “You wish to speak to me, I take it?”

“Yeah,” Porthos replied. He appreciated the fact that Athos wasn’t trying to avoid it.

“Shall we step away a bit farther so as not to disturb the others?”

Porthos eyed him, taking in the mask of calmness he wore. Athos was good at looking calm regardless of the situation. His eyes, though, were anything but calm. “Nah,” Porthos replied, pushing away from the tree. “Just wanna have my say is all.”

“Then by all means,” Athos said, inclining his head slighting and gesturing for Porthos to continue.

“Aramis told me what happened,” Porthos began. “Said it was all his doin’ and that he scared the hell outta ya when he did it.” He paused then and sighed, his face darkening into a slight frown. “You gotta understand, it ain’t you.”

“I know,” Athos said softly, not wanting to interrupt, but wanting Porthos to know that he understood that he meant nothing personal by this.

“You didn’t see what he was like after that connard tried to rape him,” Porthos spat. He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. “And while I know you would never do anything like that to him, just the thought of him bein’ with another man scares the hell outta me. ‘Cause while you’d never force him, you might… push him… and not even realize you were doin’ it.”

Athos paled, suddenly finding it hard to take in a breath. A second later, Porthos was at his side, grasping his elbow and giving him a gentle shake.

“Easy, Athos,” he said. “Come on now, brother, take a breath. That’s it.”

“I… I am alright now,” Athos managed after a moment.

Porthos looked at him then nodded. He kept hold of his arm, though, just in case. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to hurt you, but you need to understand. Aramis… he lives for praise. And he lives for your praise more than anyone else’s. That might make him try to push himself a bit farther than he’s comfortable with… a bit farther than he’s really ready for. You need to mindful of that and watch out for it.”

“How?” Athos asked, desperate to know how to keep from inadvertently doing something that would hurt Aramis. Even if their relationship went no farther, he would still like to know what to watch out for in case someone else ever attempted to… push… the other man.

“There’re signs. He’ll start talkin’ too fast for one. And he won’t look at ya but for a second. Just kinda glance at ya. When it’s real bad, he’ll start stutterin’ and stammerin’ and shakin’. By that time, though, it’s too late, damage is already done usually. Just… just try to let him set the pace but don’t let him try to go too fast either. He’s kinda like a horse. You gotta give him some rein but you can’t just give him his head.”

Athos looked at the other man for a moment then huffed out a laugh. “I am not sure Aramis would appreciate being compared to a horse,” he said. “But I do see the similarities. If I simply let him set the pace, you are afraid he will try to do too much too quickly in order to please me and end up damaging himself in the process. But at the same time, I must allow him some semblance of control over the situation lest he become overwhelmed in that regard.”

“Exactly,” Porthos grinned. At least Athos seemed to understand both the gravity of the situation and what needed to be done if he wanted to pursue this thing with Aramis. Now all Porthos had to do was find out if he did, indeed, want to do that or if he’d managed to scare the man off after all. “So, I guess that just leaves one last question.”

“And that would be?”

“Do you still want this thing with Aramis? Do you still wanna try? ‘Cause it’s gonna be a lot of work and most of that work’s gonna fall on you, my friend.”

“I… care very deeply for Aramis,” Athos said, choosing his words cautiously. “I would have something with him if he would see fit to have me and I will do whatever is necessary to ensure that he does not… does not suffer for the trying. I know it will be difficult, but the most worthwhile things usually are.”

“Alright then,” Porthos said, both relieved and dismayed. “Just know… if you hurt him… if you damage him… there isn’t a rock in all of France that you can hide under that I won’t find you.”

“If I hurt him, Porthos, I assure you, you will not have to look for me. I shall come find you myself.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

They were back on the road shortly after sun-up and made good time for the remaining distance to Flamare. When they reached the village they stabled their horses and split up to ask about the disturbances that had been reported. Aramis and Porthos headed toward the tavern while Athos and D’Artagnan went in the opposite direction.

Three hours later they rendezvoused at the tavern where Aramis and Porthos had begun their inquiries. All four of them were noticeably disgruntled as they sat down in the back. “The good citizens of Flamare do not seem very interested in sharing their woes with us,” Aramis remarked. “I do not remember them being quite this reticent when I was last here.”

“You were a priest then,” Porthos offered. “Maybe they just don’t like Musketeers.”

“I do not think that is it either,” Aramis replied. “There had been Musketeers through here before and they were never greeted with such open mistrust. Something is not right here, my friends.”

“And we shall find out what it is,” Athos assured him. “You know these people better than us, Aramis. Do you think it safe for us to stay in the inn?”

“In truth, I do not know,” he admitted. “I do not like the way this feels. I would much prefer to visit the church. The priest should have a room or two there we can make use of.”

They finished their wine and headed for the church, hoping the priest would be a bit more forthcoming about what ailed the town. The church was not far and as soon as Aramis crested the small hill leading up to it, he knew something was terribly wrong. “Dios,” he whispered as he spurred his horse hard and fast toward the broken down wreckage that the church had become.

His companions did not spare a single glance between them before racing after him. They did not know what Aramis had been expecting but they knew it was not this derelict and forsaken ruin. They were only a few strides behind him, but Aramis had already dismounted and strode into the ruins of the church itself by the time they got there. They were quick to follow, heedless of any unseen dangers that could be lurking nearby.

They found Aramis simply standing in front of where the altar should be. It had been overturned and a dark black stain marred its cracked and broken surface. Aramis turned around slowly, taking in the sights all around him. They spoke of both disuse and violence and he shuddered to think of what fate must have befallen the priest that had lived here.

“This place has been abandoned for a while,” D’Artagnan said, his voice seeming loud in the confines of the stone walls.

“Indeed,” Porthos replied. He pulled out his pistol as a sense of unease settled over him. 

“Aramis…” Athos began, but his voice was cut off as a strong wind whipped through the room, stirring up leaves and debris and swirling about them. It raged on as if driven by a mighty storm and the four men threw their hands up to try to shield their eyes from the onslaught of dust and dirt being hurled about them.

It ceased as suddenly as it had started. One moment it was spinning about them and the next everything was still once more. The only evidence that it had even happened were the dried leaves that floated slowly to the floor.

“What… what the hell was that?” Athos demanded, unable to keep the slight tremor from this voice as he looked to Aramis.


	6. Chapter 6

Part 6

Without a word, Aramis strode forward, past the others and out into the courtyard. Once he was outside, he fell to his knees and began to shake violently as he took great heaving breaths. He had no idea how much time had passed before he realized his friends were standing worriedly around him. He could feel Porthos’ hand running up and down his back as the man whispered calming words into his ear.

“I… I am… am alright,” he finally managed to say as his shaking began to abate. Fine tremors still wracked his body but they were growing weaker as he took in the sight of his friends seemingly guarding him.

“Can you stand?” asked Porthos as he took Aramis’ elbow to help him to his feet.

“Give me a moment,” he replied. After taking a few more breaths, Aramis nodded and Porthos helped him stand. His legs felt shaky at first but were soon back under his control. He smiled his thanks to his friend and clapped him on the shoulder. 

“What was that?” D’Artagnan asked once Aramis was back with them.

“I have no idea,” Aramis replied, a final shiver running through him.

“Just the wind probably,” Porthos said, though his voice held little conviction. When the others looked at him he shrugged. “What else could it’a been?”

“Many things, my friend,” Aramis said softly. “Many very bad things.”

“So what do we do?” D’Artagnan asked. “I doubt they’d rent us rooms at the inn.”

“No,” Athos agreed. “Not now that we’ve seen this.” 

“Then we stay here,” Porthos said. He saw Aramis shudder in revulsion at the very idea and grasped his arm. “It’s better than out in the open at least.”

Reluctantly, Aramis agreed. “There… there should be rooms in the back,” he said, pulling himself together. There was no way he was staying in there, not after that. He led them around to the back of the property. There was another door set into the side of the building. This led into a narrow hall with three small rooms along one wall. It would have to do.

“Alright,” Athos said. “D’Artagnan can stay with me. Aramis and Porthos can take the other two rooms.”

“Porthos and I will stay together,” Aramis said in a rush. He felt himself blush when the others turned to stare at him. “I would rather none of us sleep alone in this place. I fear there is evil here.”

“Very well,” Athos said. “Aramis and Porthos in the room next door then. But first, let us look about and see if we can find any evidence of what went on here. Priests normally keep records of local happenings, do they not?”

“Yes,” Aramis confirmed. “Marriages, births, deaths, anything unusual. There should be records of the town stored here somewhere, assuming no one’s removed them, of course.”

They found what they were looking for in the side chapel, clutched in what remained of the hand of a skeleton wearing the regalia of a Bishop. The others stood aside so that Aramis could kneel down beside what remained of the body. He gently pried the book away and passed it to Athos. He then laid the body out on the floor and began to pray.

The others moved back into the nave. They wanted to give Aramis his privacy but they would not leave him unguarded. Something was very wrong here. That an entire town would simply leave a priest’s body to rot on the floor of his church was unthinkable. 

“Who would do this?” D’Artagnan whispered urgently, unable to remain silent.

“I do not know, but we shall find out,” Athos assured him.

“I’m gonna find somethin’ to wrap the body in so we can bury him,” Porthos said. “Aramis would want to see him laid to rest.”

“Alright,” Athos murmured in agreement. “Just stay in sight. I agree with Aramis. This place is evil.”

By the time the priest was buried, night had fallen. They built a small fire inside the nave and looked through the book the priest had been holding, hoping to find some clue as to what going on. It was filled with the normal things one would expect in a church’s town record – births, marriages and deaths. 

“I found the last entry. It’s dated seven years ago,” D’Artagnan read. 

“What is it?” Athos asked.

“It’s a record of the death of a young woman. Her name was Madeleine Girardin. It says she died of complications from… exorcism.”

“What did you say her name was?” Aramis demanded, the color all but drained from his face.

“Madeleine Girardin,” D’Artagnan repeated. “Did you know her?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Aramis said. A bark of laughter escaped him, though it was shrill and sounded closer to a sob than not. 

“Aramis?” Athos called softly, concern coloring his voice. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Porthos had gone absolutely still beside his friend.

“I assisted Father Barre and Bishop Fernand with her exorcism, you see. If I had to guess, I’d say the man we just buried was the good Bishop.”

“So the girl _died_?” D’Artagnan asked. It did not seem possible. Aramis did not seem the sort to become so wrapped up in his religious teachings as to cause the death of another.

“No,” Aramis said quickly. “At least not while I was here. She… she was alive when I left. It… it took days, you see. Days! And it was hellish… brutal… but we did it. In the end, she was free. And while she was exhausted beyond compare and completely drained, she was alive. There… there was nothing to indicate that she would not make a full recovery.”

“We believe you, Aramis,” Athos told him. He reached out then and took the man’s hand in his. “We believe you. We know you would never harm an innocent nor would you leave one to simply perish. If you say the girl was well when you left then she was.”

Aramis squeezed his hand back, grateful for the support and faith of his friends. Taking a breath, he continued. “After… after everything that happened, I could not stay. I had been becoming more and more disillusioned with the church and its teachings. This… this barbaric… trial we put this poor girl through… I could not stay. I left. I left Flamare and the church and I have not been back to either until today.”

“If it was so barbaric, why did you do it?” D’Artagnan asked, wanting to understand but at the same time unable to keep the sharpness from his tone.

“You watch your mouth, boy,” Porthos warned dangerously, but Aramis’ hand on his arm stilled him.

“It is alright. It is a legitimate question. I stayed, D’Artagnan, because with or without me they were going to continue. If I stayed, at least I could try to… to mitigate things… to suggest less harsh methods, or ease her fear and pain where I could. I admit, I was able to do precious little for her. Probably nothing at all, really. But that is why I stayed, because I was afraid of what they might do if I left.”

“I’m sorry,” D’Artagnan said, bowing his head toward Aramis. “I should not have spoken to you so.”

“Nonsense,” Aramis replied. “We are all friends here. And Porthos sometimes forgets that you do not as yet have the history that we do together. It is alright to ask, lad. However will you learn if you don’t?”

“You are too generous by far,” D’Artagnan replied. “I was rude and worse still, I doubted you.”

“As I said, you do not as yet have the history that we all do. In time, those doubts will vanish. I do not hold them against you. That you were man enough to find out for yourself if they were warranted or not speaks more highly of you.”

They fell silent for a time, each thinking about what they had learned from both the church records and Aramis himself. “So what now?” Porthos asked at last.

“Well, I doubt we can go back to the Captain and tell him the place is haunted,” Athos said. 

“Even if it is?” D’Artagnan asked. 

“It is not haunted,” Aramis held. “I do not believe in ghosts and spirits.”

“You believe in evil,” D’Artagnan replied. 

“That is not the same thing,” Aramis replied. He prepared to explain but Athos cut him off.

“We are not going back to the Captain and telling him that we got scared away by a haunted ruin. Now, let us get some rest and we can begin our search again in the morning. There must surely be more here than a single record book. Aramis, might I speak with you for a moment?”

“Of course,” Aramis agreed. He accompanied Athos to the far side of the nave where they could still keep the other two in sight but their conversation would remain unheard. 

“Are you alright to stay here?” he asked once they were alone.

Aramis simply stared at him, unsure how to respond. Part of him was angry that Athos was questioning his ability to do his duty yet part of him was touched that he was concerned for his well-being. Clearing his throat, Aramis took Athos hand. “I appreciate the concern, truly I do, but I am not a maiden in need of your protection. I am a Musketeer and I am as able to do my duty as any man here.”

“I’m sorry,” Athos said at once. “I did not mean to imply that you were not capable. I only saw how this place affected you. I know you feel the evil here more acutely than the rest of us.”

“I know you meant no offense and none was taken. And yes, this place does leave me feeling ill at ease, but we have a job to do and we shall do it. Just… do not let your guard down, mon cher.”

“I shall not,” Athos promised him. He glanced over Aramis’ shoulder and, seeing Porthos and D’Artagnan otherwise engaged, quickly brought Aramis’ hand to his lips and kissed it. “Sleep well, dear friend. And know that I am nearby if you have need of me.”


	7. Chapter 7

Part 7

Athos lay staring up at the ceiling. The stone floor was not the most hospitable of beds but he had slept on much worse during his time with the Musketeers. It wasn’t the unforgiving nature of his bed that was making sleep elude him, but rather the feel of a certain set of eyes watching him.

“You may ask your questions, D’Artagnan,” Athos said softly as he continued to stare up at the ceiling. “I shall answer them if I am able.”

“That is not necessary,” the younger man told him, causing Athos to turn toward him at last. “Your secrets are your own. You will tell me if you want me to know. If not… I trust you regardless and will stand by your side.”

“Then what is it?” Athos asked. He was touched by the other’s words of loyalty and trust and vowed to strive to be worthy of them.

“I worry for you,” D’Artagnan admitted, going for honesty and hoping Athos would not take offense. “You have not had an easy time of it. Something has changed of late and I fear how the outcome may as yet affect you.”

“You are a good man and a loyal friend. You have no need to worry for me, though I have a feeling my words will not stop you. You are right, something has changed of late. And while I do not wish to speak of it as yet, I am… hopeful… for the first time in a very long while.”

“Then I shall be hopeful, too. Just know that you can come to me if you’ve a mind and I will guard your secrets as closely as I would my own.”

“Thank you, my friend. Now let us try to get some sleep. I have a feeling the coming day will not be an easy one.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“You are restless,” Porthos sighed when he heard Aramis fidgeting yet again. 

“I’m sorry. Would you prefer if I went into the hall? I doubt I’ll sleep tonight anyway.”

“What I would prefer,” Porthos said, “is for you to come over here and tell me what’s botherin’ you so much. Is it just this place or is it somethin’ else?”

Aramis hesitated a moment then gathered his blanket and moved over next to Porthos. The other man held his arm out and soon Aramis was once again nestled into his friend’s side, warm and safe. “Mostly, it is this place,” he began. “Can you not feel the evil here?”

“Yeah,” Porthos admitted. “I feel somethin’. Don’t know if it’s evil like you say but it makes my skin crawl whatever it is.”

Aramis nodded, understanding the feeling Porthos spoke of perfectly well. He had been feeling it himself ever since he had set foot inside the ruined church. He wondered for a moment how Athos and D’Artagnan were fairing next door but was not overly worried. They had left the doors propped open to be able to hear one another should the need arise. He would know if anything were wrong.

“You said it’s mostly this place,” Porthos continued when Aramis failed to go on. “Want me to guess what’s causin’ the rest of it? Or should I say who?”

“Not particularly, no,” Aramis replied. His arm was across Porthos’ chest again and he felt the other man tense. “It’s not Athos. Not really. He has done nothing to make me uneasy.”

“Been the perfect gentleman, has he?”

“Yes,” Aramis said with a chuckle. “He even kissed my *hand* when you weren’t looking.”

Porthos had to laugh at that himself. Athos was apparently trying to take things as slowly as possible while still assuring Aramis of his interest. Porthos approved of the approach, but it was clear something was still amiss about it because Aramis was still fidgety.

“So?” he pressed. “He takin’ it too slow for you?”

“No. I can find no fault with Athos.” The smile on Aramis face gave tribute to the truth he spoke. He was enjoying the feeling of being properly courted for once. 

“Then what’s got ya so worried? And don’t tell me you’re not ‘cause I can see that you are.”

Porthos thought for a moment that Aramis was not going to answer him, the pause was so long. Finally he spoke. “What if I can’t do it?” he whispered. “What if I just… can’t? I do not want my past to dictate my future but one is not always able to outrun one’s demons. We have only to look at the good Bishop’s grave to see the proof of that.”

“I won’t lie to you, it’s a possibility,” Porthos replied solemnly. He felt Aramis try to jerk back and tightened his grip on him, keeping him pinned to his side. “I don’t think it’s much of one, but still. Athos, he knows this. I told him as much myself. He still wants to try. He’s still willin’ to risk gettin’ his heart broke for the chance to have somethin’ with you.”

“I don’t want to hurt him.”

“I know you don’t. And he don’t want to hurt you either. You’re a strong man, Aramis. Stronger than me, that’s for sure. You can get past this. With time and care and some help from the people who love ya best. Just… don’t push yourself too hard. Don’t hurt yourself just to please him. Can you promise me that?”

“I will try, my friend,” Aramis told him. “But you know how I am. In the moment, I tend to forget myself until it is too late.”

“I know,” Porthos sighed. “Guess I’ll just have to trust in Athos not to let ya do anything that might hurt you. Think you can try to get some sleep now?”

“For you, I shall try.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

She watched him sleep and felt the rage inside her grow. At last, the prodigal priest had returned. She would have her vengeance for what was done to her. She would make him pay for what they did. She would make him hurt and scream and beg. And she would make him watch while she took everything that was dear to _him_ and destroyed it before his very eyes.

She approached the dark-skinned man slowly, letting the warmth of his spirit draw her ever nearer. This one called him friend. This one cared for him and was cared for in return. But this one was afraid. She could feel the fear and anger inside him. She could work with that. Fear and anger were the easiest to manipulate, the easiest to push and control and distort. This one, she would have, and once she had him, she would use him to do all sorts of delicious things.

Smiling to herself, she moved through the wall and into the next room where the other two slept. The Boy was of no consequence to her. Live or die, she did not really care, though she would probably kill him just to see the pain in the priest’s eyes. The Lover, however, he was another story. This one would be made to suffer most dire. She would make it last for days if she was able. And she would make sure that he knew the reason he was being made to suffer so. He would die cursing the name _Aramis_. She would see to that. 

Her final act, before relinquishing the dark man’s body, would be to end the prodigal priest’s life. But she would not make it quick. She would make sure that he would suffer long enough for the other’s mind to return to him, for him to realize what had been done by his own hands. She would have the priest live long enough, so that his final vision was of the overwhelming pain in his dear friend’s eyes.

Sensing the Lover beginning to stir, she pulled back. It would not due for them to sense her presence too soon. Her plan would not work if they were on guard for her. She must take them unawares, at least the one. Once she had him, the others would be like lambs to the slaughter, ignorant of the danger until much too late.


	8. Chapter 8

Part 8

Porthos awoke with a groan. His eyes felt as if they were filled with sand and his body felt heavy and sluggish. He had not slept well, even with Aramis tucked up safely beside him. Dreams had plagued him all through the night. Horrible dreams. He knew they were about Aramis and that Athos as well had played a prominent part, but other than that, he could not remember them. Grumbling to himself, he slipped away from Aramis, knowing he would get no more rest and unsure if he even wanted to try.

He left the room, intending to take a brief walk around the church to clear his head. He was not expecting to literally run into Athos as the man exited his own room and could not stop himself from growling slightly. 

Athos stumbled back from a combination of Porthos’ greater bulk hitting him from behind and the low, angry sound coming from the other man. Turning quickly, he saw the thunderous look on the man’s face and had to force himself not to recoil. “Porthos?” he said softly as he reached his hand out toward him. “What is wrong?”

“Nothin’,” Porthos snapped. He brushed Athos’ hand away and strode past him, his shoulder clipping Athos’ own and nearly sending him stumbling yet again. 

All Athos could do was watch as the other man stormed away from him. He looked back toward the room he had shared with Aramis but nothing seemed amiss. Suddenly concerned, Athos moved to the door that was still slightly ajar. Looking in, he breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Aramis still sleeping. Whatever was wrong with Porthos, it did not appear to be Aramis. Athos doubted seriously if it was D’Artagnan so that left only himself. 

Icy fear gripped Athos’ heart when he realized that perhaps Porthos had changed his mind about allowing him to court Aramis. But if he had, Athos did not know why that would make him so angry. Surely he and Aramis had not quarreled… had they? Glancing back into the room, Athos took in the blankets spread out together and the clear indication of where Porthos had been. No, they had not quarreled. The two appeared as close as ever. 

Knowing he would find no answers here, Athos sighed and went to look for his friend. He would have this out with Porthos. If he had done something to anger or offend the man then he would apologize and do whatever was necessary to make amends. 

Having decided his course, Athos checked one last time on the sleeping occupants of both rooms then went in search of Porthos. He found him back in the nave, just outside the side chapel where they had found the Bishop’s body. Athos could see the tension in his friend’s body and approached him slowly. 

“Porthos?” Athos called softly when he was just close enough to reach out and touch the man. “Please, brother, tell me what is wrong.”

“Don’t know,” Porthos admitted, his voice still gruff and angry. His hands were at his sides and he kept clenching and unclenching his fists. He was breathing hard, almost panting and he could feel his blood singing through his veins. It was how he felt when he went into a battle he wasn’t sure he would survive.

“Porthos,” Athos said again, moving closer. He laid his hand on the other man’s shoulder and squeezed softly, hoping to show his allegiance and support. He had a split second to feel Porthos stiffen impossibly further under his hand and then the man was moving.

Porthos spun around quicker than a man his size had any right to be. He grabbed Athos’ hand by the wrist and twisted hard, shoving it up and forcing Athos to go to his knees to keep his elbow from being dislocated. 

Athos' hand automatically went to one of his weapons, a dagger, but he froze with his hand upon the hilt. This was Porthos. He would not draw a blade against his brother no matter how great the provocation. “Porthos, stop!” Athos snarled as he was forced to bend down even more to keep his arm from being too greatly damaged.

Porthos stopped his upward movement then but did not relax his grip and allow Athos to rise. Holding him there, he bent down until his mouth was close to the other man’s ear. “That’s a good look for you, Athos,” he whispered.

“Wh-what?” Athos gasped. The pain in his wrist and arm was excruciating. It felt as if Porthos was grinding the small bones together as he held his wrist captive. 

“On your knees,” Porthos clarified. He met Athos eyes and held them, letting the anger swirling inside him show through. All at once, Porthos gave a full body shudder. His eyes slammed close and his hand tightened on Athos’ wrist unconsciously. Then he was blinking and looking at Athos with confusion in his eyes as if he had no idea what was happening.

“Please…” Athos heard himself plead, shame making his face flush hot and dark.

For a moment, Porthos was lost then he seemed to realize that he held Athos’ wrist in a punishing grip and that he was forcing the man to the floor on his knees. Porthos released him with a gasp, as if Athos’ wrist had suddenly become red hot, and stepped back. He could only watch helplessly as Athos cradled his wrist to his chest and panted through his pain, his head down.

“A-A-Athos?” Porthos stammered, his voice catching. He wanted to step forward and pull the injured man into his arms and hold him and protect him but he did not think Athos would allow that, not when it was clear that Porthos himself had been the one to inflict the injury in the first place.

Athos took a deep breath, then another and another still before he trusted himself to speak. He kept his eyes firmly glued to the floor, his shame at being forced to beg like a living thing inside of him. “I am… alright,” he managed at last. “Are you back with us now, my friend?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Athos. I don’t… I don’t know what…”

“It is alright,” Athos interrupted. “You were obviously not yourself. And there was no true harm done.”

“I hurt you,” Porthos moaned.

“It will heal,” Athos assured him as he climbed unsteadily to his feet. He still refused to look at the other man. “I do not believe any of the bones are broken. I shall get Aramis to wrap it for me just in case. It should be as good as new in a day or so.”

“Why didn’t you stop me?” Porthos asked.

“And how, pray tell, should I have done that?” Athos asked. “Should I have taken a dagger to one of my closest friends when he was quite clearly not in his right mind?”

“You should not have let me hurt you,” Porthos argued, although he could see Athos’ point. If it had been him being forced on his knees, he wouldn’t have been willing to chance hurting one of his brothers either. 

“I did not,” Athos said, then added, “overmuch. This will heal. There was no permanent damage done. Let us forget it.”

“I might think you actually meant that if you’d at least look at me,” Porthos told him. 

“I’m sorry. I am not upset with you, Porthos. I am upset with myself.”

“Why?”

“I behaved in a somewhat… undignified manner,” Athos managed. He forced himself to look at Porthos then. He could still feel the flush of shame staining his cheeks but there was nothing to be done for it. 

Porthos frowned not understanding what Athos was talking about at first, then comprehension dawned. “Athos… brother… I was crushin’ your bloody wrist. Any man would have…”

“I am not any man. I am a Musketeer and your leader and I should have…”

“Stop right there,” Porthos snapped. He covered the short distance between them in two long strides and had Athos by the shoulder before the man could even think to pull away. “You could’a slit my belly open but you didn’t ‘cause you’re my brother. All you did was ask me to stop hurtin’ you. There’s no shame in that. You hear me?”

Athos opened his mouth to reply but he was interrupted by Aramis and D’Artagnan entering the room. “Is everything alright,” Aramis asked when he took in Porthos’ tense posture and the way Athos was cradling his right wrist. 

“I seem to have injured my wrist, dear Aramis,” Athos said, turning toward the approaching men. “Would you be so kind as to wrap it for me?”

“Of course,” Aramis replied. He took Athos hand in his and began to examine it as gently as he could. “It is not *too* bad, though one or two of the smaller bones may in fact be broken. I will wrap it to keep the swelling at bay. It is a good think you can fight left handed, my friend.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this part is a bit short, RL was not co-operating today. Also, I am a bit stuck at the moment so there may be a short delay...

Part 9

Aramis led Athos back to the room he had shared with Porthos so he could get his medical supplies. He had Athos sit on the floor so he could prop his arm against his knee while Aramis knelt down to examine it again before beginning to bind it.

“The bruising goes all the way around the wrist,” he remarked as he turned it this way and that. “How did you say you did this again?”

“I did not,” Athos replied softly. He did not want to lie to his friend but he did not want to tell him the truth of the matter either.

Aramis looked up at him for a brief moment before turning back to his hand. He reached for a roll of bandages and began to carefully wrap the injured wrist. “You do know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I do,” Athos agreed evenly.

Aramis sighed. “Well, considering your reluctance to speak of the matter, I must draw my own conclusions. And since Porthos was the only one with you at the apparent time of the injury...” 

“Aramis…”

“Did he… did he **_do_** this?” Aramis asked, the very idea anathema to him. He had only meant to tease Athos into telling him what had actually happened. Yet he knew of nothing else that would cause crushing damage such as this.

“He… he was not himself,” Athos said, anxiety tainting to his voice. “Please, do not be upset with him. He truly did not know what he was doing.”

“You really believe this?” Aramis asked him incredulously. 

“I do.” The surety in Athos’ voice told Aramis that he did, indeed, believe what he was saying. “At the end, he seemed to almost… come back to himself. He did not even know where he was at first. Or that he was causing me pain.”

“I do not like the sound of this, Athos,” Aramis said. “There is evil in this place, true evil. I have seen it before. I know you and the others do not believe as I do, but you must trust me in this. We should leave here at once. Leave here and never come back.”

“We cannot, Aramis. You know this,” Athos told him as gently as he could. “We will take your words to heart. We will be as vigilant as we can and watch each other closely, but we cannot simply abandon these people to… to whatever this is.”

“These people do not wish our help!” Aramis nearly shouted. He forced himself to take a deep breath. “They do not wish our help. Why should we risk our very souls for them when they did not see fit to even warn us?”

“Because we are Musketeers. And we will not turn a blind eye and allow this evil to fester and grow. We will rout it, same as any other.”

Aramis hung his head for moment, then looked up at Athos, his eyes now clear and determined. “You are correct as always, my friend. We will do what we must while looking out for one another. Now, your hand is wrapped. Let us rejoin the others and see what more there is to uncover in this ghastly place.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“So what happened to Athos’ hand?” D’Artagnan asked after he and Porthos had been alone for a while.

“I don’t… I don’t really know.”

D’Artagnan eyes the other man warily but said nothing. Something was going on here that he did not fully understand. He could only hope Aramis had some notion of what to do because he doubted if the others had any more of an idea than he did. 

Needing to do something but not wanting to leave Porthos alone, D’Artagnan began looking around the nave once more for anything they might have missed the previous night. He kept a careful eye on Porthos as he did so, mindful to never turn his back completely to the other man. It hurt to be so distrustful of one of the men he hoped to call brother but, as Aramis had said last night, he simply did not have the history with them yet to be so blindly faithful. Not when Athos was sporting finger-shaped bruises around his wrist.

By the time Aramis and Athos came back out, D’Artagnan had looked through most of the nave. He had gathered what few papers he had found in the Chancel and gave them to Aramis to look over. “I found something over here by one of the Transept Chapels,” he said. “It looks like someone’s drawn something or… or painted it on the wall near the bottom. I can’t tell what it’s supposed to be though.”

D’Artagnan led them over to the wall where he found the crude drawing. Aramis knelt down to examine it more closely. It was hard to tell what it had been meant to be. It had been crudely drawn and time had faded it even more. Almost of its own volition, Aramis’ hand reached out to touch the strange symbol. Before he could brush his fingertips over it, a high shrieking clamor rent the early morning stillness.

Aramis jumped back as if scalded, landing on his backside and slithering away from the image on the wall. He grasped the silver cross around his neck as he leapt to his feet and looked around wildly for the source of the anguished wail.


	10. Chapter 10

Part 10

They split into pairs and searched the church and grounds from top to bottom. Athos and D’Artagnan searched inside while Porthos and Aramis took the grounds. In the end, they found nothing that could have been responsible for the horrifying sound that they had heard. 

“I’m getting’ kinda tired of this,” Porthos grumbled once they had regrouped in the nave. 

“You are not the only one, my friend,” Aramis replied. He ran a hand through his hair as he tried to steady his nerves.

“This makes no sense,” D’Artagnan said, the frustration in his voice plain to hear. “Winds that arise from nowhere, screams with no…”

“Steady, lad,” Athos said, laying a calming hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “We are all of us discomfited by this, but we need to keep our wits about us.” 

D’Artagnan took a deep breath and seemed to visibly get ahold of himself. “You are right. I’m sorry,” he said when he was calm once more. 

“Good, lad,” Athos smiled and clapped him on the back. “Now, I suggest we return to our original plan and begin a thorough search of the premises. Perhaps we will find something that can shed some light on this mystery.”

They resumed their search with Athos and D’Artagnan taking the main area and Porthos and Aramis searching the smaller, outlying ones. They found more of the strange symbols that D’Artagnan had found in various corners of the room as well as along some of the walls. All of them were smudged and faded with age making their true form impossible to determine but the sense of foreboding they gave off was unmistakable. 

Aramis did not make the mistake of attempting to touch one again.

As they searched, a sudden, sharp cracking noise caused them all to look upwards in time to see one of the low ceiling beams give way and come crashing down toward D’Artagnan. Athos lunged through the path of the falling beam, knocking D’Artagnan back. They landed in a heap on the stone floor. The ceiling beam but a few scant inches away. 

The other two men rushed to their sides, falling to their knees beside their comrades and hastily checking them for injuries. “Are you alright?” Aramis demanded as he ran his hands over Athos back and arms.

“I’m fine,” Athos choked. The falling beam had stirred up the dust from the floor making it a bit hard to breath. “It missed us.”

Porthos blew out a breath and began helping the two men to their feet. He was just as shaken as Aramis by the unexpected close call and needed to see his friends standing on their own two feet. Once they were up and dusted off, D’Artagnan could not hold back a chuckle, though the slight edge of hysteria in it had his companions looking at him sharply.

“D’Artagnan?” Athos queried.

“I’m alright,” the younger man assured him. “Just… now the bloody building’s trying to kill us. What’s next?”

“It was just a rotted timber, nothing more,” Athos said with as much certainty as he could manage. 

“Right,” he said, the disbelief in his voice clear. “Just a rotted timber. Like it was just an errant wind and just some… some strange type of… of bird we’ve never seen that flew by and screeched and flew away again.”

“D’Artagnan, calm yourself,” Athos said. He gripped the younger man’s shoulder again and squeezed. He could feel fine the fine tremors that were running through the man and pulled him close, his arm going around the other’s shoulders. “We are here and we shall face this thing together. Take courage from that and know that your brothers will never desert you.”

As one, Aramis and Porthos moved closer, lending their own support to their youngest member. They rested their hands on his back, wanting him to feel that they were there for him just as surely as Athos was and that they would protect him come what may. 

“I’m sorry,” he said after taking a shuddering breath.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Athos replied. “You are young and this place is enough to test the resolve of any of us.”

By the time they had finished their search, they had found a total of four more of strange symbols along with several pages of writing in a language that Aramis had never seen before. There was something about the placement of the symbols that nagged at Aramis. Two were along the walls near the Transept Chapels, one by each, and there were two more directly across from each other along the walls of the Nave. The final one, they had found in the middle of the floor, just down from the other two. 

Aramis knew it had to mean something, but he could not discern what. Using a stick for a quill and the dirt on the floor for paper, he began to sketch out the basics of the room. He drew in the walls, leaving out everything else, then put in the approximate location of the symbols. When he was done, he stood up and looked down at his work. 

He could almost see it. There was a type of pattern. Kneeling back down, he took up the stick again and, very carefully, began to connect the symbols. His hands were shaking by the time he was done. He did not need to stand up to see what he had drawn, to know that it was what the symbols represented. Throwing the stick aside, he rose and stepped back, crossing himself.

“Aramis?” Porthos called out. “What is it?” 

At Porthos’ words, the others looked over and noticed Aramis’ distress. Walking over, they looked down at the crude picture the man had drawn. D’Artagnan gasped and took an involuntary step back while Athos swore softly as he looked down at the inverted pentagram on the floor.


	11. Chapter 11

Part 11

Shaking his head, Aramis turned and strode from the room. He had to put some space between himself and that abomination. Without thought, he returned to the room he had shared with Porthos the night before.

“Stay here,” Athos said as he moved to follow Aramis. He felt a prickle of unease at leaving D’Artagnan alone with Porthos after what happened earlier but he pushed it aside. His main concern at the moment was Aramis. 

He found him easily enough, and the sight that greeted him was not unexpected. Aramis was kneeling in the corner of the small room he and Porthos had shared, quietly praying, his fingers running over the beads of his rosary almost desperately.

Athos approached him slowly, making sure to make enough noise so that he was aware of his presence. When he was close enough, he knelt down beside him and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Aramis,” he whispered. “It is alright. I am here.”

All at once, Aramis turned toward Athos and wrapped his arms around him tightly. Athos returned the embrace, running his hands up and down the other man’s back in an effort to calm him. They stayed like that for long minutes, until Athos’ knees began to ache from the hard stone, but he made no move to break the embrace. If this was what Aramis needed then he would gladly give it. 

Finally, Aramis seemed to calm and loosened his grip though he did not let go entirely. Athos mirrored his movements, allowing them to put some small amount of space between them while staying connected. He could not deny that holding Aramis this way felt wonderful and he was just as reluctant to give it up as the other man appeared to be.

“I am sorry,” Aramis said after a bit then chuckled. “I seem to be saying that a great deal of late.”

“Do not let it trouble you,” Athos told him. “We all know you feel whatever evil is here far greater than the rest of us do.”

Aramis nodded, grateful for Athos’ understanding. “Come, let us get up. While I may be accustomed to spending hours on my knees, you, dear Athos, are not.”

“I am fine where I am,” Athos assured him. “I… I find the balm of holding you this way completely eclipses any minor discomfort.”

“Oh.” Aramis looked at him then, looking into his eyes. He could see all of the affection and care Athos held for him. It made his heart begin to race as he realized the depth of Athos’ feelings for him.

“Are you alright?” Athos asked, when Aramis continued to simply look at him. “Did I… is this too much?”

“No. No, this is… this is fine,” Aramis said quickly, lest Athos try to move away. “I am merely… how much you feel for me… it humbles me.”

“I love you, dear friend,” Athos told him. Deciding to take a chance and hoping he was not pushing Aramis too far too fast, he began to lean toward him. He did so slowly, making his intent quite clear and giving Aramis ample time to pull away or give some other sign that he did not want this. When none came, Athos sighed and pressed his closed lips against Aramis’ in one of the gentlest kisses he had ever given.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“Do you think he’s alright?” D’Artagnan asked as the minutes ticked by and the other two failed to return.

“Athos will see to him,” Porthos replied, though his own eyes kept straying to the hallway the two men had disappeared down. “He won’t let anything happen to Aramis.”

“It’s not Aramis I’m really worried about,” D’Artagnan muttered. He saw Porthos frown and continued. “I mean I am, don’t get me wrong. This place has surely affected him worse than even me…”

“But?”

“But I fear for Athos,” he reluctantly admitted, unable to keep his worries inside him any longer. “He’s been through so much of late. I don’t know how much more he can take.”

“Athos is strong. And he’s not alone. He’s got you and me and Aramis to look out for him. We won’t let him fall. Now let’s see if we can find enough wood around here to make a fire with. I don’t fancy goin’ back outside to look for more right now and it’s gonna get cold tonight.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Aramis felt he should probably be embarrassed about the sound he made when Athos brought their lips together. He thought it was somewhere between a whimper and a moan; not exactly the sound a consummate lover such as himself should make for such an innocent kiss. When the kiss broke, however, the look of stunned pleasure on Athos’ face chased away any embarrassment Aramis might have felt.

Athos leaned forward once more and, for a moment, Aramis thought he meant to kiss him again but he simply rested their foreheads together as he took several deep breaths. For his part, Aramis had never seen the man so affected and he stroked the side of Athos’ face with his palm. 

“We… we should return to the others,” Athos said after a moment. He saw Aramis open his mouth to protest and cut him off. “Before I am unable to do so without completely embarrassing myself.”

“Oh,” Aramis said, his eyes widening. “Just this affects you so greatly?”

“Just *you* affect me so greatly,” Athos told him. With a quick kiss to the forehead, Athos pushed himself to his feet. He reached down and offered Aramis his hand, smiling when the man took it and allowed himself to be helped to his feet. With a last squeeze to the other man’s hand, Athos released him and headed back to where they had left the others.

When they reentered the nave it was to find their companions in the process of gathering twigs and whatever else they could find for their fires. They looked up with they entered and Athos smiled and nodded, letting them know that all was well. 

D’Artagnan breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Athos’ relaxed posture. He grinned at him when the man began helping him and they soon had enough to make at least a small fire in their shared room. Aramis had taken his customary place beside Porthos and the pair were busy doing the same. 

“Let’s try and get some rest,” Athos said once they were all ready. “In the morning, I’d like to explore the grounds further. Maybe we can find something more out there.”

“Make sure to keep your door propped open so we can hear if there’s any trouble,” Porthos said as they split off to go to their respective rooms. 

“You as well,” Athos replied.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“You alright?” Porthos asked as they made ready for bed. Aramis did not even try to sleep across the room this time, laying his bedding with Porthos so they could share it.

“Yes, very much so,” Aramis smiled.

“I know that smile.”

Aramis waited until they were laid down before replying. “He kissed me,” he confided, feeling like a boy again instead of a man grown.

“Did he now?” Porthos replied, trying to keep his tone light even as he frowned.

He could hear the trepidation in his friend’s voice and hurried to assure him. “It was very innocent. He barely touched his lips to mine. I do not believe I have ever been kissed so… so carefully in all my life.”

“That so, huh?” Porthos chuckled. He loved seeing Aramis like this, happy and carefree. He only hoped nothing happened to spoil it. “Well, people are supposed to be careful with precious things.”

“Porthos…”

“Hush, mon ami. You are precious. To me as well as Athos. Now sleep and dream of his sweet, careful kisses.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

She waited until the dark man was asleep before approaching. He had shaken her off earlier but that was fine. She would have him again. His fears and doubts made him easy prey. All she had to do was twist them just right and he would be hers. 

Hovering over him, she concentrated. A moment later and she had invaded his dreams. It was no surprise that he dreamt of the priest. She merely watched for now, looking for an opportunity to strike. It came a short time later when the Lover appeared. So he dreamt of them together. That could be useful. A few nudges in the right direction and his own fears would do the rest. Concentrating again, she began to nudge at him, suggesting here, countering there, pushing and tugging until the scene began to change. 

Suddenly, the sky was no longer bright, but dark and foreboding. The priest no longer smiled up at the Lover in delight but began to cringe in fear as the Lover wound his fist in his hair and jerked him close. Unlike the previous kisses, this one was angry and harsh. When the Lover pulled back, there was blood on the priest’s lips. 

Knowing her work here was done, she carefully drew back, mindful not to cause the dreamer to awaken. The dark man’s own fears would do the rest this night. And when he awoke, disoriented and angry and afraid, she would be waiting for him. And he would hers.


	12. Chapter 12

Part 12

Porthos awoke with a jerk, Aramis’ name dying on his lips. He looked about frantically for the other man and nearly sobbed with relief when he saw him sleeping safely next to him. He shuddered as memories of his nightmare flashed through his mind. 

_Aramis beaten and bloody._

_Aramis scared and in pain._

_Aramis calling out for help that never came._

Suddenly, the room seemed to tilt and he thought he might be sick. Before he had time to move, however, the room seemed to right itself. Now, other fragments of his nightmare came back to him. 

_Athos standing over Aramis and laughing while he cringed and pleaded._

_Athos with his hand wound tight in Aramis’ hair, forcing him to his knees._

_Athos with his fist pulled back in preparation of landing yet another blow._

Porthos’ hands balled into fists and he began to shake. He would die before he let anyone hurt Aramis like that again. And he would kill any man that tried… including Athos. Throwing off his blanket, Porthos stood, careful not to disturb Aramis. He forced himself to take deep breath after deep breath. He knew if he simply charged off after Athos that the others would stop him. He could not allow that. He would have to bide his time until he could get Athos alone again. Then he would make sure the man understood.

Porthos noticed Aramis begin to stir and knew he had to do something. If Aramis saw him like this he would not stop until he found out why. There was no way he was going to allow the man to warn Athos. With a last look at his sleeping companion, Porthos slipped from their room and headed back toward the nave. Perhaps a few minutes there would help to calm his frayed nerves.

He had not expected to find Athos and the boy already there. They stood close together, talking quietly, with Athos’ hand gripping the boy’s shoulder possessively. Porthos could not keep the snarl from his lips at the sight of Athos attempting to seduce the boy with Aramis a mere room away. 

Athos looked up at Porthos’ entrance. He took in the other man’s tense posture and felt himself tense in response. When he saw the look of ice cold fury in Porthos’ eyes, he knew something was terribly wrong. Not wanting the younger man to get caught up in the middle of whatever was about to happen, Athos made a decision.

“D’Artagnan, why don’t you go see if Aramis is up yet,” he suggested, putting a touch of command into his voice. “Then you and he can go outside and begin looking around. Porthos and I will join you shortly.”

D’Artagnan looked at Athos then over to Porthos. The look on the man’s face nearly made him recoil. He started to protest but Athos squeezed his shoulder in warning. Reluctantly, he nodded and headed back toward their sleeping rooms. He only hoped Aramis would be able to shed some light on what was going on.

“Porthos…” Athos began once they were alone. He got no further as the other man dashed toward him. Before he could react, Athos found himself grabbed by the throat and slammed into the wall behind him. Porthos was holding him up by the throat so that his toes barely brushed the floor and the grip around his neck was making it impossible to draw in a breath.

“You think I don’t know what you wanna do?” Porthos snarled, his face inches from Athos’. “You think I didn’t see you with the boy just now… touchin’ him… seducin’ him like you did Aramis…”

Athos tried to answer but could get no sound past the iron grip on his throat. He pulled at Porthos’ hand, trying to break free as his body kicked and struggled. In his panic, he brought a hand down to his belt in search of his dagger but Porthos was faster. He jerked the dagger from his belt and tossed it across the room leaving Athos essentially defenseless as drawing his sword in this position was impossible.

For long seconds, Porthos watched as Athos squirmed and tried to break free. He watched as the man’s face turned first red then wine colored. He could see the panic in Athos’ eyes as he realized that Porthos could very well strangle him like this and there was nothing he could do about it. 

Porthos waited until Athos’ struggles had begun to weaken. He leaned in then until his lips were almost brushing Athos’ own. “Touch him and I’ll kill you. And I won’t make it quick.” With that, he took a step back and released his hold on Athos’ throat. 

Athos crumpled to the ground onto his hands and knees and began sucking in as much air as his abused throat would allow. He had tears running down his face but he made no move to wipe them away. It was all he could do to stay as he was and simply pant through the pain. 

Athos considered himself lucky that he had just managed to get his breathing back under control when he heard D’Artagnan and Aramis approaching. He looked up from his knees in time to see them enter the room then Porthos let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a scream and collapsed.

Both men immediately rushed to the stricken pair with D’Artagnan going to Athos side and Aramis’ kneeling beside Porthos. While the younger man helped Athos to his feet, Aramis began checking Porthos for signs of some injury that could have either caused his collapse or resulted from it. When he could find nothing, he sat back shaking his head and looked to Athos.

“I… I don’t know…” Athos rasped, his voice barely audible. “As soon as we were alone, he attacked me… choked me. I’ve no idea what set him off.”

Aramis’ looked stunned. He could not believe that Porthos would ever attacked Athos regardless of the provocation. “Did you say something to him?”

Athos shook his head. “I never got the chance. He was on me before I could get more than his name past my lips.”

“Th-this is not right,” Aramis whispered. He had pulled Porthos’ head into his lap and was gently stroking his forehead. “This is the second time he has attacked you in some way. I fear what might happen if there is a third.”

“What should we do?” D’Artagnan asked. 

“We cannot leave until we know what is going on,” Athos said. When he saw Aramis start to protest he held up a hand to forestall him. “We cannot risk taking Porthos out of here until we know what is affecting him so. If it is just this place, then fine, perhaps leaving here will cure him of it. But what if it is not? What if it is something else… something more? At least here we can attempt to contain him until we can determine what is happening and why.”

Aramis wanted to protest but he knew that Athos was right. They could not risk taking Porthos from this place until they knew what danger he truly posed. But that did not mean they all had to remain here. So far, Athos was the only one that Porthos had targeted. Porthos had been nothing but his usual caring self where Aramis was concerned. 

“Very well then,” Aramis said. “You and D’Artagnan can ride to the next town and await us there. I will remain here with Porthos until this has passed. Perhaps you might even be able to gather some information while you are there.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Athos demanded hotly, his voice sounding louder for the sudden sharp edge to it.

“He has not tried to hurt me,” Aramis argued. “I do not believe he will. I should be perfectly safe.”

“No,” Athos said. “I will not leave you here with him. If another… fit… comes upon him and you are the only one here he may very well turn his anger on you.”

“Athos…”

“No.” Athos tone brooked no argument and Aramis relented, knowing it was futile to continue. “However, sending D’Artagnan on to the next town does have merit.”

“Now wait,” the younger man said, but Athos cut him off.

“You may indeed be able to find out something of this place, of what has befallen it and the good citizens of Flamare,” Athos told him. “We are finding nothing here, lad, and I fear Porthos’ situation may soon grow desperate.”

“I do not like it,” he said after a moment, “but I understand. I will go and find out what I can as well as restocking our provisions and then I shall return.”

“I expected no less,” Athos replied.

They got D’Artagnan to help them carry Porthos back into the room he shared with Aramis before riding out. Athos then moved his own things into the room. From here on, they would stay together. He sat with his back against the wall as he watched Aramis tend to Porthos as best he could. He grimaced at the small stab of jealousy he felt, telling himself it was uncalled for and that Porthos had not meant any of the vitriolic words he had spewed at him.

“What are you thinking about?” Aramis asked without looking up from Porthos.

“That we are all truly blessed to have you as a friend.”

“I thank you,” Aramis chuckled, blushing slightly from the sincerity in Athos’ voice. “But that is not what you were thinking about.”

“No. Not really.”

“What did he say to you?” Aramis looked up at that, meeting Athos’ eyes and holding them.

“Why do you think he said anything?” Athos replied, unable to look away.

“Because you are in pain and I do not mean your throat. He has wounded you. You are trying to hide it. To… dismiss it. But the wound is there nonetheless.”

“It does not matter what he said. He was not himself,” Athos said. He did not want to repeat the things that Porthos had said. He did not want to upset Aramis and he did not want Aramis to think for one second that what Porthos had said could be true. As Aramis continued to simply look at him, Athos sighed in defeat.

“Very well,” Athos relented. “He said he knew what I wanted to do, though I have no idea to what he was referring. He also said… said that he saw how I was… touching… D’Artagnan. He… he accused me of attempting to seduce him as I had you.”

At Aramis’ sharply in-drawn breath, Athos had to look away. He could not stand to see the look of betrayal in his friend’s eyes. He could only hope that, once this mess was resolved, that Aramis would give him the opportunity to explain.

“Athos…” Aramis began hesitantly. “He did not mean that. And even if he did, I do not believe it for a second.”

Athos looked to Aramis then, unable to stop the hope from rising within him. At the sight of Aramis’ easy smile, Athos felt the bands around his heart ease a bit. Of course Aramis believed him. He had been foolish to think it would be otherwise.

“Now tell me the rest,” Aramis insisted. “I know you wish to protect us both but any clue could be valuable if we are to figure this out.”

“There was not much else really. He told me if I touched you he would kill me and he would take his time about it.”

“Dios,” Aramis gasped. 

“Now do you see why I would not leave you here alone with him, my friend?”


	13. Chapter 13

Part 13

When it became clear that Porthos would not be rousing any time soon, Aramis moved to kneel next to Athos. “Let me have a look at your throat,” he said as he took the man’s jaw in hand and began to gently turn his face from side to side. Already there were angry bruises forming all around Athos’ neck making Aramis wince in sympathy.

“It’s not so bad,” Athos told him, though the rasp in his voice said otherwise.

As Aramis continued to study the bruises that were forming, he frowned. “Did he… was this with one hand?” he asked disbelievingly.

“Yes,” Athos admitted. He cast a worried glance at Porthos before looked back at Aramis. “His strength… He has always been the strongest of us, but to hold me off the ground with but one hand while I fought him? That should not have been possible, even for our Porthos.”

“My God. Athos, he could have killed you.” 

Athos looked away then, unable to stand the pain in Aramis’ eyes. He did not want to tell him just how close a thing it had been. He did not want Aramis to know that he only lived because Porthos had **_allowed_** it. 

“Oh, love,” Aramis whispered. He reached out then and pulled Athos into his arms. When Athos tried to resist, Aramis simply pulled his head down onto his shoulder and held him, comforting him the only way he knew how. “I’m so sorry. I have to believe that he would not have… that he could not have…”

“I know,” Athos replied and he did know. He knew Aramis would never be able to believe Porthos capable of such an act without seeing it with his own eyes. He simply loved the other man too much. Athos found he could not begrudge him that faith, even if he himself was struggling with it.

“Athos… what if-if we can’t…”

“We will.”

“But…”

“We will,” Athos said firmly. He raised his head up then and held Aramis’ eyes. “We will find a way to free him from whatever this is. I know how very much he means to you. I would never ask you to leave his side just as I will not leave yours. We shall not abandon our brother when he needs us most. I give you my word.”

“You mean a very great deal to me as well,” Aramis told him, both touched by his words and relieved that Athos would not try to make him leave Porthos’ side in an attempt to protect him. “I would not see you come to harm by staying here with us… with me…”

“I will not leave you, Aramis,” Athos said, a note of finality in his voice. “I do not care about the danger. You will not face this alone.”

“I would very much like to kiss you now,” Aramis whispered. “If that is alright with you.”

Athos looked at him for a moment then slowly brought their lips together once more. He kept the kiss as chaste as the last though he did allow a bit more of the desire he felt for this man to show. He felt Aramis’ lips part slightly beneath his own and a soft tongue peak out to softly stroke against him. Unable to help himself, Athos groaned and opened his mouth, allowing himself to truly taste Aramis’ lips for a brief moment before forcing himself to pull back.

Aramis once again found himself with his forehead pressed to Athos’ own as both of them fought to get their breath back. They held on to each other, refusing to let go just yet. Aramis had to stop himself from surging forward and taking Athos’ mouth in another, much deeper kiss. He knew his friend was trying to take things slowly for him and he was determined to honor Athos’ wishes. He had, however, never been very good at resisting temptation.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

They lay awake listening to the priest and the Lover talk, careful to keep their breathing slow and even. She had finally managed to push the dark man all the way back. He was aware, could see and hear and feel all that went on, but could do little else. She was in control now and very soon, she would make the priest pay. 

She thought about all the ways she could make the Lover scream while the priest looked on, as helpless and impotent as all priests were. She knew where the former priest had kept a scourge and there were plenty of other things that could be crafted with ease. She wondered how loudly he would scream when she stripped the flesh from his back. If the prodigal priest would still look at him with eyes of love when he was nothing more than a whimpering, mewling pile of blood and bones and filth.

Perhaps she would even use the dark one’s body to take him. Take that sacred act they would have shared between themselves and turn it into something unholy and obscene. After all, a man of this size could do a great deal of damage that way if he so chose. She wondered what the priest might offer to prevent it. Would he beg her to stop? Would he offer himself in the Lover’s place? She wondered if he might even beg for death to spare his Lover such an ignoble fate. She was looking forward to finding out.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“We need to gather some wood for the fire,” Athos said as the room began to grow colder with the setting sun. 

“You go,” Aramis told him, squeezing his hand when Athos made to object. “He has still not awoken and I do not wish to leave him alone. And before you suggest that I be the one to go, may I remind you that *you* are the one he has attacked twice now. I shall be in no danger and you shall not be far even if I am wrong.”

“Very well,” Athos reluctantly agreed. He knew he would never convince Aramis to leave Porthos unattended and he did not think spending the night on the cold floor with not even a fire for warmth would do any of them good. “I shall be quick.”

She waited until she was sure the Lover was far enough away then let out a soft groan. As expected, the priest rushed over to check on his fallen comrade. As soon as he was near, her eyes shot open and she grabbed the priest by the throat, stopping him from calling out. “Hello, little priest. It’s about time you came home.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this part got a bit darker. And the non-con element is coming into play a bit so please be warned.

Part 14

Aramis stared at Porthos in shock as a sick feeling twisted in his gut. The maniacal grin that distorted his friend’s features was so out of place that it almost made him look like another person. A person he had tried very hard not to think of over the last seven years. _Please_ , he tried to beg, but could get nothing past the grip Porthos had on his throat. Instinctively, Aramis reached for the cross around his neck but as he grabbed it, a strong hand covered his and squeezed mercilessly, digging the metal into his flesh until it pierced him. 

“Your fear is as sweet as honeyed wine, little priest,” she said as she rose to her feet, carrying Aramis with her. She jerked the cross from his neck, scattering the rosary beads across the floor, and flung it into the corner of the room. She then spun Aramis around and wrapped her arm around his throat allowing him the thinnest tendril of air. She did not want him to pass out after all. “Come, let us find the Lover. I have such plans for him.”

She raised her arm and Aramis found himself lifted off the ground by the arm at his throat. He wanted to plead with Madeleine to leave Athos alone but it was all he could do to pull against the arm cutting off his air. 

“I want to hear him sing for me,” she whispered in his ear in Porthos’ rich, deep voice. “Do you think he’ll sing for me? I bet he will. I bet I can make him sing until his voice gives out.” She stopped when they entered the nave and simply watched the Lover for a moment. She saw the exact moment when he realized he was no longer alone and turned to face them. The fear she saw in his eyes was nearly as sweet as the priest’s. She was going to enjoy this very much.

“Let him go,” Athos said using every bit of command he possessed. He did not look at the man before him as Porthos. He could not. Not if he wanted to be able to act to save Aramis. He could only hope that both men would be able to forgive him for whatever he was forced to do.

She threw back her head and laughed, the sound seeming to bounce off the stone walls. “You are in no position to order me,” she told him. “Now, unless you want to watch while I snap his neck like a twig, you will disarm yourself placing all but your pistol on the far side of the room. The pistol you can place next to the pillar beside you.”

“Porthos…”

“Or would you rather watch while he suffocates? It *was* rather entertaining when it was you gasping like a fish. Shall we see if he looks the same?”

Without another word Athos began to remove his weapons. He did not try to conceal any, knowing that Porthos was quite aware of all of the ones he kept hidden about his person. Once he had set them all aside as instructed, he carried his pistol back to the pillar and laid it down.

“Now what?” Athos asked once he was finished.

“Go stand by the other pillar,” she indicated the one directly across from where Athos now stood. Once Athos was where she wanted him, she grinned. “Get on your knees.”

Athos knelt without a word, his eyes never leaving the other two men. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would do whatever it took to get Aramis out of this regardless of the cost to himself.

“Looks good like that, doesn’t he?” she whispered into Aramis’ ear, making sure Athos could hear her too. “Makes you think of all kinds of interesting things he could be used for.”

Aramis shuddered at the words, their meaning unmistakable. He began to pray as he was backed toward the pillar where the pistol lay. 

“Now you stay right there while I get little priest here sorted. Then we can… play.”

Athos could only watch as Aramis was slammed against the pillar and quickly bound in place. From the strain on the man’s face and shoulders, he knew the bonds were tight, leaving little chance of Aramis being able to slip them. 

“Porthos… Porthos, please,” Athos begged, trying desperately to get through to his friend.

“Your lover is not very bright, is he, little priest? He still thinks his dear friend is in here somewhere.”

Aramis could not hold back his denial at her words. He knew there was a good chance she was lying and that Porthos was still there… somewhere… but part of him despaired that he was not. When he met Athos’ eyes, he could see all his pain and fear reflected back at him and he struggled to get his wayward emotions under control for his sake. 

“Porthos would not be so easily vanquished,” Aramis said with as much conviction as he could manage. “You may have the upper hand for now, but he is still there.”

“Is he?” she shot back. “Well, then I’ll make sure to give him a good show. Wouldn’t want him to become bored after all.”

“Madeleine, please,” Aramis said softly, using her name for the first time. “They are not to blame for what was done to you. Take your vengeance out on me if you must, but let them go, I beg of you.”

“Begging already and I haven’t even made him sing yet,” she said as she bent down to pick up Athos’ pistol and tuck it in her belt. 

“Take me instead,” Aramis tried again. “I… I willingly give myself you to. I would be your vessel, just let my friends go.”

“Aramis, no!” Athos shouted and surged to his feet.

She had the pistol out and thrust against Aramis’ temple before Athos could even take a step. “I will kill him,” she said. “It is not what I wish to do… at least not yet… but I will if you do not do exactly as I say. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Athos replied softly.

“Good. Now, I believe I told you to get on your knees.”

Once again, Athos silently sank to his knees. He did not breathe until Porthos, or whatever was masquerading as Porthos, took the pistol from Aramis’ head and came toward him. He kept his eyes on Aramis until the other man’s bulk blocked his line of sight then he simply stared straight ahead. A fist in his hair jerked his head back, forcing him to look up into Porthos’ face. 

She grinned down at him, enjoying the sight of such a proud man on his knees. She took the pistol and began rubbing it across his face. She paused when she got to his lips and her grin widened. “Open,” she said as she pressed the pistol more firmly against his lips.

Athos had no choice but to obey. He opened his mouth and nearly gagged as his own gun was forced inside. He heard Aramis moan and realized then that Porthos had moved aside enough so that he could see what was being done. Athos wanted to close his eyes at the shame of it but was afraid that any show of defiance on his part would only end up hurting Aramis more. 

She spent long moments fucking the gun in and out of the Lover’s mouth. She enjoyed the way he cringed and nearly gagged when she would thrust it in particularly deep. “You seem quite good at this,” she taunted. “Perhaps you would enjoy feeling this someplace else as well?”

Athos could not stop the shudder that ran through him at the words. He knew there was little he could do if the threat was made good. He could only hope that Aramis would not be made to bear witness to it and that Porthos, if he still lived, would have no memory of it.

“Or perhaps I should use this body instead,” she said after a moment. “He is rather… large. I’m sure he would be able to use you quite thoroughly.” 

Aramis could not stop the tears that rolled down his cheeks at her cruel taunts and did not even try. He prayed that God would not visit such a fate on Athos then prayed for the strength to help him through it if He did.

Finally, she pulled the pistol from Athos’ mouth and stepped back. She watched him pant for a moment as she mulled over what she wanted to do next. There were, after all, so very many delicious choices. Deciding, she took yet another step back and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Stand up and strip,” she told him. “Everything but the breeches. Those can stay… for now at least. I would hate to tempt myself too soon.”

Athos looked up at his friend for a moment then nodded and slowly got to his feet. He removed his boots first then began on his the rest of his clothes. One he stood in nothing but his breeches, he looked back at the Porthos-thing and waited.

“Please,” Aramis begged again. “Madeleine, do not do this. It is me you wish to hurt, so hurt me!”

“Oh, little priest,” she laughed without bothering to turn around. “What do you think I’ve been doing?” She picked up a coil of rope and the scourge she had secreted the day before when she had managed to wrest control from the dark one for a few brief moments. 

Athos paled a bit at the sight of the scourge. It was one of the nastier ones, with knotted and barbed strands meant to rend the flesh from a man’s back. This was not an implement of simple punishment but one designed to maim and destroy. 

“Between those two should do,” she said, indicating a pair of pillars that stood almost two shoulder-widths apart. She set the pistol down before approaching Athos. She knew he could not overpower this body physically but if he should somehow manage to get the gun from her, he might be able to wound her enough to get free. 

It was quick work to secure Athos in place. When he saw that the pistol was not in Porthos’ belt he knew he had no chance to escape. He was no match for this thing without some sort of weapon. He grimaced when the ropes were pulled taut and he was lifted up onto his toes. He knew, once the whipping commenced, he would not be able to keep his feet under him and prepared himself as best he could.

“So stoic,” she said as she ran her hands over his naked back. She moved in close to him until her body was flush against his. She made sure he could feel her growing hardness as she ground it against him. Licking a stripe across his shoulder, she hummed in approval. “Honeyed wine, indeed.”

“If you hurt him, I will kill you,” Aramis vowed, his voice choked with tears. 

“And risk hurting your dear friend whom you think you can still somehow save? I think not, little priest.” With that, she stepped away, drew back her arm and brought the scourge crashing down on Athos’ unprotected flesh.

Athos managed to bite back his scream but it was a near thing. His back felt like it was on fire. He could already feel a thin rivulet of blood running down it. If the very first blow had laid him open he wondered if he would even survive the lashing, let alone whatever else this demon had in store for him. 

It took four more blows before Athos could no longer keep his cries to himself. He choked out a sound when the barbs struck home, tearing into already abused flesh and moaned as the pain seemed to course through his entire being. He could hear Aramis’ voice somewhere behind him but he could no longer make out what the man was saying as he hung his head and panted through the pain.

“I knew I could make you sing,” she said as she prepared to land another blow, this time across Athos’ straining shoulders. The resultant scream was like music and she continued until Athos’ voice began to grow strained and weak. Tucking the scourge into her belt, she moved to him until she was once again pressed against his back.

Athos moaned and tried to pull away when he felt the roughness of Porthos’ leathers press against his ruined back. He was hanging by his arms, no longer able to support himself on his toes. He could hear someone sobbing behind him and thought it might be Aramis but he couldn’t be sure. Then a hand was fisted in his hair and his head was jerked back, baring his throat. 

“You are so beautiful like this,” she cooed as she worked her other hand between them to run over his blood covering back. “So broken and helpless. Do you think he will still want you when I am finished with you? After he’s watched me fucking you into the dirt? After he’s watched you beg to die just to make the pain end? Tell me, Lover, is the little priest truly worth such suffering?”

Athos gasped, unable to speak at first. He licked his lips and swallowed then forced himself to respond. “H-he is wor-worth every…everything.”

“Everything?” she taunted. “Well, we shall see if you still feel that way after this one has had his fill of you.” She released his head to begin working at the ties of Porthos’ breeches, scowling when they knotted. She was so intent on her task that she did not hear the sound of footsteps moving quietly up behind her until it was too late. She whirled about, snarling her rage, but the stock of a musket sent her to her knees. When she tried to rise, a second blow sent her to the floor and a third, back to the inky darkness from which she had come.


	15. Chapter 15

Part 15

Aramis felt someone working at the knots binding his wrists behind him and tried to hold himself still. He watched as D’Artagnan carefully turned Porthos over onto his back, keeping his musket at the ready. He stumbled forward when his bonds suddenly gave way then he was racing toward where Athos hung, limp and unmoving. He glanced at Porthos long enough to confirm the rise and fall of his chest then all of his attention was on the other man.

As carefully as he could, Aramis began to cut Athos free. He glanced behind him to ask for help but saw D’Artagnan and a priest carefully moving Porthos to the center of the room. Knowing that securing Porthos’ body took priority, Aramis turned back to Athos without a word. He freed one hand, noting where the wrist had been rubbed raw by the coarse rope that had bound him to the columns. Once he had one arm free, he draped it over his shoulder to provide what support he could to Athos and began working on the other. As soon as Athos other hand was freed, Aramis let his weight bear them down as gently as he could. He made sure to lay Athos on his stomach, so that he could begin to tend to the injuries on his back. 

While Aramis saw to Athos, D’Artagnan and Father Andre’, the priest from Toulon that D’Artagnan had brought back with him, began to secure Porthos in the center of the nave. They used heavy chains that the priest had brought with him specifically for this and soon had the man tied down hand and foot, spread-eagle on the floor. Once Porthos was secured, D’Artagnan left Father Andre’ to watch over the man while he went to check on Athos and Aramis. 

“How is he?” D’Artagnan asked as he knelt down beside Aramis. Athos was laid out on his stomach, his back a bloody ruin but the steady rise and fall of it showed that he still lived at least.

“I… I need my… my supplies,” Aramis stammered, trying to get his wayward emotions under control enough to begin treating the man’s wounds.

“I’ll get them,” D’Artagnan assured him, gripping his should and rising. “Father Andre’ brought supplies as well, in case we need them.” He quickly made his way to the room where Aramis’ things were and grabbed his saddle bags with his medical supplies. He also grabbed a skin of water and hurried back to the others.

He set the supplies down next to Aramis and knelt down on the other side of Athos. “What can I do?” he asked. He could see that Athos was badly hurt but it was hard to tell just how serious the wounds were through all of the blood. 

“Clean… clean his back,” Aramis said as he began threading a needle. “Pour the water over it to rinse the blood away. We don’t have time to do more than that.”

D’Artagnan nodded and began to do as Aramis instructed. He gasped when he saw the extent of Athos’ injuries. His back was covered in bloody lacerations, many of them alarmingly deep. He had the fleeting thought that it was a miracle Athos had not succumbed from blood loss alone then pushed it aside to focus on his brothers.

After that, he could only watch as Aramis began to carefully sew the wounds closed. He helped where he could, wiping away excess blood that seeped from the wounds and rethreading Aramis’ needles until they ran out of thread. Luckily, Father Andre’ had thought to bring along a few medical supplies and D’Artagnan hurried outside to the priest’s cart to retrieve them. 

In all, over a dozen gashes had to be sewed closed. Aramis lost count of the number of stitches he put in. When it was done, his fingers ached and his hands would not stop shaking. Setting the bloody needle down, Aramis sat back and looked over his handiwork in dismay. Athos’ back was literally covered in dark thread. 

“Do we wrap his wounds first or set his shoulder?” D’Artagnan asked once Aramis had finished with the stitching.

“His shoulder?” Aramis asked. He looked down then and noticed for the first time that Athos’ left shoulder appeared to be dislocated. He swallowed thickly then pulled out a roll of bandages. “Bandages first. We need to keep those cuts as clean as possible. Can you hold him up for me while I wrap them?”

“Of course,” the younger man replied. As carefully as he could, he lifted Athos and held him so that Aramis could wind the linen bandages around his chest and back. Once that was done, Aramis motioned for him to hold Athos tight and he quickly set his shoulder back into place. Mercifully, Athos remained unconscious throughout both along with the bandaging of his bloody and abraded wrists.

It was a few hours later when Athos finally began to stir. Father Andre’ and D’Artagnan had moved all of their things into the nave and had built a fire. Afterward, they stayed close to Porthos, monitoring him for any signs of movement. Aramis remained with Athos, resting the man’s head in his lap and idling stroking his hair as tears ran freely down his face.

“Wh-wh-what hap-happened?” Athos groaned hoarsely when consciousness finally returned to him. 

“Our dear Whelp has rescued us,” Aramis whispered as he continued to run his fingers through Athos’ hair. 

“He… he did?” Athos barely managed to get out through is strangled throat.

Aramis reached for the water and helped Athos to turn on his side and drink before making him move back onto his front. “What is the last thing you recall?” Aramis asked, the medic in him needing to make sure that Athos was indeed coherent.

“I was… bound between the pillars,” Athos replied, his voice a bit less rough than before. “I was… was waiting for it… for it to finish me.” The admission made Athos wince in shame but the pained gasp that came from Aramis pushed that aside at once.

Aramis forced back his tears as best he could and filled Athos in on what he had missed. He explained about D’Artagnan and Father Andre’s arrival and subsequent rescue. He told Athos about his injures, about his shoulder and the deep cuts covering his back. 

“The scarring,” he admitted haltingly, “will be extensive, I’m afraid. I did my best, but there was so much…”

“Peace, Aramis,” Athos told him. “We all still live. That is what truly matters. A few more scars aren’t going to make much of a difference to me anyway.”

“Nor me,” Aramis assured him softly.

“And Porthos?” Athos asked when Aramis failed to mention him other than to say that D’Artagnan and the priest had secured him. “Do we know what this is that has affected him so?”

“Yes,” Aramis said. “It… we believe it is… Madeleine… or her spirit. She has taken possession of him.”

“Is that possible?” Athos asked in shock. He wanted to deny it, but part of him knew the awful sense that it made.

“It would appear so,” Aramis said. “I am so sorry, Athos. This is all my fault. She wanted me to suffer. I dare say she got what she wanted.” Aramis could no longer hold back his sobs as he thought of all the pain his friends had been put through because of him. 

“Aramis, no.” Athos pushed himself to his hands and knees then and carefully moved to sit beside the other man. He needed Aramis to see the sincerity on his face and he really needed to wrap his arm around the other man. “You are not to blame for this. You have done nothing wrong. I do not blame you. And when Porthos is himself again, he will not blame you either.”

“You should. You both should!” Aramis insisted. “She did this to get revenge on me!”

“And if we had but listened to you in the first place, none of this would have happened. In that regard, the fault lies with me. I was the one that insisted we stay.”

“Athos…”

“No. The blame, what there is of it, sits firmly on the demon that has taken hold of Porthos. Now, how do we get our brother back?”

“Father Andre’ and I are going to attempt to free Porthos of her hold and banish her once and for all,” Aramis explained. “He has brought all that we need, including prayers specific for such things. We were only waiting until you were once again with us. Now that you are, D’Artagnan can take you back to Toulon while the Father and I…”

“No,” Athos said softly, interrupting Aramis mid sentence.

“What?”

“We are not leaving you,” Athos told him. 

Aramis started to argue but D’Artagnan cut him off from across the room. “He is right, brother. We will not leave you to face this alone. We stand together in this as in everything else.”

Aramis closed his eyes and simply nodded. He knew there would be no convincing the other two to leave them. They were brothers, all of them, regardless of what else they may or may not be to one another. That much would never change.

“Come, Aramis,” Father Andre’ called. “Let us prepare for this battle while your friends take rest.”

With a last look at Athos, Aramis rose and moved over to where Father Andre' knelt near Porthos. D’Artagnan stood and hugged him tightly before moving over to take his place next to Athos. They watched as Aramis knelt down across from the other priest and began to lay out the things they would need.

Once Athos was sure that Aramis’ attention was firmly fixed on what he was doing, he leaned close to D’Artagnan. “I need to speak with you,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving Aramis. 

“I’m listening,” he replied just as quietly, understanding that whatever Athos was about to tell him, he did not want Aramis to hear.

“If this does not go well… if they cannot free Porthos from this demon…”

“Yes?” D’Artagnan prompted when Athos fell silent.

“Then there may be but one way to free our dear brother.”

It took a moment for Athos’ words to sink in. When they did, D’Artagnan gasped then glanced quickly to Aramis to make sure he had not been heard. “You… you cannot mean…”

“Would you leave him like this?” Athos asked, the pain of what he was saying obvious in his voice.

“No,” he replied sadly, closing his eyes at the pain of possibly losing Porthos for good. “I would not. I will do it as you are in no fit state to and… and I would not see Aramis have to be the one to end Porthos’ life.”

“You know he will likely never forgive you for this,” Athos cautioned. “Even if he understands the inescapability of it.”

“I know,” D’Artagnan nodded solemnly. “But I will not leave Porthos… enslaved to this demon or whatever it is. One way or the other, he will be free again.”


	16. Chapter 16

Part 16

Once everything was laid out for them, both men bent their heads to pray. Aramis prayed for the strength to see his friend through this ordeal, for his faith to remain strong and for his fears to not best him. He prayed for Porthos’ soul, that God would give him the strength needed to survive what was to come and the will to fight his way back to them. Finally, he prayed for forgiveness for his sins so that his soul might be cleansed to fight this evil.

Father Andre’ prayed beside the younger man, asking for strength and guidance both for himself and Aramis. The lad had told him of Aramis, how he had once been a member of the priesthood but was now a Musketeer. While he would have preferred another priest with him, Andre’ knew that the genuine affection these men held for each other would be equally powerful.

Their prayers finished for now, Father Andre’ took up the aspergillum while Aramis picked up the book that Andre’ had brought with him. As soon as the first drops of Holy Water hit Porthos his eyes shot open. He snarled and jerked against the chains holding him in place, thrashing as the water was sprinkled over him from head to foot. 

Taking a shuddering breath, Aramis began to read. “Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino qui fertis super caelum caeli ad Orientem Ecce dabit voci Suae vocem virtutis, tribuite virtutem Deo.”

Porthos thrashed his head from side to side then locked eyes with Aramis. “Your god is not here, little priest. He has left you just as you left him. He has little tolerance for whores such as you.”

“Keep reading,” Father Andre’ urged when Aramis hesitated.

“We exorcise you, every impure spirit, every satanic power, every incursion of the infernal adversary, every legion, every congregation and diabolical sect,” Aramis continued, his voice growing stronger as he did. He could see flashes of pain on Porthos’ face and forced himself to ignore it. 

“Thus, cursed demon and every diabolical legion, we adjure you. Cease to deceive human creatures, and to give to them the Poison of Eternal Perdition.”

Father Andre’ touched the aspergillum to Porthos’ head and the man roared. He strained against the chains holding him, making them creak as the metal tried to bend. Both priests gasped at the show of raw strength then Father Andre’ took up the prayers.

Suddenly, Porthos stopped thrashing and his eyes once more settled menacingly on Aramis. Father Andre’ knew that the demon would focus his attacks on the other man, trying to wound him and make his focus waiver. He only hoped he could find the strength to endure.

“Look at you, little priest,” Porthos spat, “so pathetic. So **_unworthy_**. You sicken me. Always crawling on your belly, mewling about something, terrified of your own shadow. Do you honestly think a man like Athos would ever see a sniveling _coward_ like you as anything more than a willing hole to fuck?”

“Shut up!” Aramis shouted, unable to endure the foul taunts any longer. 

“Peace, Aramis,” Father Andre’ said softly. “It is the demon mocking you, not your friend. It preys upon your fears. You must not allow it to do so.”

“Oh, but he has so very many fears,” the demon in Porthos goaded. “Fears of being touched by a man again. Fears of being held down and fucked again whether he wants it or not. Fears of _liking_ it.”

“Shut your mouth, foul beast,” Father Andre’ commanded as he shook the aspergillum over Porthos face and chest.

Porthos writhed and gasped then glared at the priest before once again turning his attention to Aramis. “Tell me, little priest, how long do you truly think you can hold his attention now that he has the boy? See how close they sit? How they touch?”

“I shall not believe your lies, Madeleine,” Aramis said calmly. He refused to turn and look at Athos and D’Artagnan even though he wanted to. He trusted his friends and knew neither of them would ever treat him so dishonorably.

“Hmmm…” Porthos grinned evilly. “You do not believe my lies, but does Athos still believe yours? Does he still believe you the blushing virgin or has he seen through that to the whore you really are? Tell me, little priest, does he know just how many men you’ve spread your legs for? Does he know that you spread them for me?”

Refusing to rise to the bait, Aramis replied, “Our relationship is not like that and Athos knows this.”

“But you wish it was, don’t you?” 

Aramis heard Athos’ surprised gasp from behind him but forced himself not to turn around. He could not afford to divide his attention. Swallowing thickly, he did not even deign to reply, instead turning his attention to the book in his hands once more.

Athos felt D’Artagnan tense beside him as Porthos’, or rather the demon’s, words echoed inside his skull. That Aramis did not immediately refute them spoke volumes. Knowing they had much more important things to worry about at the moment, Athos vowed to speak with Aramis when all was said and done. If he truly desired Porthos, then…

Athos stopped for a moment and considered. In the end, he knew whatever Aramis’ feelings for Porthos, they would not change Athos’ own feelings, although they might change how things proceeded between them, if they did at all. For if Aramis truly desired Porthos, and Porthos was amenable, then Athos would step aside. It would break his heart, but it would be worth it to see his dearest friends happy. 

“Are you alright?” D’Artagnan asked once Athos seemed to settle. 

“I am fine,” Athos told him.

“I take it, um, all of…this… is the secret you’ve been keeping?”

“Yes,” Athos admitted. “Aramis and I… we were attempting to start a relationship. I do not know how much of what Porthos has said is true. If it is…”

“As you so often tell me, do not borrow trouble,” D’Artagnan told him. “That demon is nothing but lies.”

“Thank you, lad,” Athos said then sighed. “This truly does not… bother you?”

“What? You and Aramis?” D’Artagnan asked. At Athos’ nod he continued. “No. You cannot help who you love. I have learned that lesson myself. We are brothers, Athos. We shall always be brothers. Nothing and no one will ever change that. And I will stand by my brothers, all of them, come what may.”


	17. Chapter 17

Part 17

They were well into the second day before the demon began to show signs of weakening. Both Father Andre’ and Aramis were encouraged by this and renewed their efforts, repeating the words that would compel the demon to leave Porthos’ body. 

Porthos’ body seized for a moment, his back bowing as his arms and legs strained against the chains holding him down. Then he collapsed on the floor and gasped for breath as he turned pain-filled eyes toward Aramis. “Ar-ar-a-mis… please…” he begged, his voice broken and weak.

“Porthos?” Aramis gasped as he moved toward his friend. He felt Father Andre’ grasp his arm and slowed, understanding all too well that this could merely be another of the demon’s tricks. 

“Please… please… ki-ki-kill me…”

“No!” Aramis jerked back as if slapped, refusing to even allow for the possibility of such a thing. 

“Don’t let me… let me hurt… anyone else…”

“I will not,” Aramis promised him. “But I will not give up on you either. I will free you from this demon. I swear to you I will.”

Aramis was about to reach out and touch Porthos, to offer him some small physical comfort when his eyes suddenly turned hard once more. The sneer on his face made Aramis recoil and he bit back a moan of despair at the realization that Madeleine was once more in control.

“Do you truly think he can be rid of me, little priest?” the demon scoffed. “I assure you, if I am destined for hell then I will take this one’s soul there with me.”

Aramis own expression grew hardened at the demon’s words. He would not lose Porthos to this **thing** and he most certainly would not see his soul damned for all eternity. “I will drive you out,” he swore. “I will drive you from him and I will see you destroyed as I should have done seven years ago.”

Father Andre’ took that moment to begin to read again, sprinkling the blessed water over Porthos’ face and compelling the demon to leave this vessel. Beside him, Aramis did the same, reciting the words he now had memorized and holding fast to his faith with all that he had.

Porthos snarled on the ground, twisting and fighting the chains that bound him. His strength was still incredible but the chains no longer creaked when he strained against them. Eyes flashing with madness and fury, he stared at Aramis and began to taunt him once more. “You think your god will listen to your pleas?” he ground out. “Your god does not care for sodomites. You are nothing but a whore and a sinner to your god. He will not help you.”

“My God will not desert me,” Aramis replied calmly then returned to his recitations.

“Whore!” Porthos bellowed. “I will make you watch while I strip the flesh from his bones! I will make you watch while I shove him to his knees **again** and show him his **place**. You will watch while I defile him again and again until he begs to do anything to make the pain of it stop.”

“Be silent!” Father Andre’ commanded, trying to break the demon’s focus on the younger man. He could see how much pain the hateful words were causing him but he knew they could not afford to stop. They had to forge ahead if they were to have any chance at succeeding.

Porthos threw back his head and laughed, the horrible sound echoing off the walls of the church. Aramis, pale and shaking, drew a breath and began to recite the prayers once more. He could not allow his fear for Athos to take hold of him. He had to be strong for Porthos’ sake.

Behind them, D’Artagnan slid as close to Athos as he could. He wrapped his arm around the man’s shoulder and pulled him into his side. He could feel the tremors that wracked his body intermittently and simply held him. “I am here, brother,” he whispered, not wanting to distract the priests. 

“D’Artagnan…”

“Shh, do not listen to that thing,” he soothed. “It lies. You know this. And I swear to you now, it will have to go through me before it lays hands on you again.”

“No,” Athos shook his head. He did not want D’Artagnan putting himself into danger for him.

“I will protect you as you would protect me,” he told him. “You would not leave me to face such a thing alone. Please do not ask me to do so.”

Realizing the truth of the younger man’s words, Athos relented. He truly would not leave D’Artagnan, or any of his brothers, to face such a thing alone. He would fight for them and shield them just as he was being shielded now. With a sigh, he settled down into D’Artagnan’s embrace and let the youngest of them be his strength for once.

Aramis had not heard all of what was said between them but he had heard enough of it to take heart. He knew now that D’Artagnan would look after Athos, protecting him when Aramis could not. Taking courage from that, he renewed his efforts once more, determined to rid his friend of this demon and end this for good.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

The third day dawned dull and gray and still the demon resisted them, though it was growing weaker. The problem, however, was that Porthos was growing weaker as well. They could see the toll that the battle was taking on his body and Aramis truthfully did not know how much more his friend could take. To come so close to freeing him, only to lose him now would likely destroy him and Athos both, if not D’Artagnan as well.

“We must end this soon,” Father Andre’ said softly as if reading Aramis’ mind. 

“I know,” Aramis replied. “But I do not know what else to do. We have weakened her, but she still hangs on.”

“I have brought some of the Host with me,” Andre’ told him. “If we could force it inside of him, make him eat of the Body, it might be enough to compel her to leave him.”

Aramis stared at the priest for long moments. To do such a thing was a huge risk. It could very well end in the demon killing Porthos outright. In the end, however, there was no real choice. If they did not end this and soon, Porthos would die regardless and Aramis knew his friend would rather die fighting. “We shall need the others,” he said, “to help hold him down.”

Father Andre’ clapped Aramis on the shoulder and went to get what they would need. He had brought both a portion of Host and of Communion Wine, the Body and the Blood as it were. While he prepared them, Aramis went to his companions and told them of their plan. Both men readily agreed and rose to join Father Andre’ and Porthos.

“What is this?” Porthos asked snidely when he saw the four of them approach him. “Have you missed my touch so much, dear Athos?”

“Be silent, demon,” Father Andre’ said as he broke off a portion of the Host. He nodded to Athos and D’Artagnan and they knelt down on either side of Porthos’ head. Before the demon could realize what was going on, D’Artagnan had grabbed him tightly by the hair and Athos was using all of his strength to force his jaw open.

Father Andre’ moved quickly, shoving the Host deeply into Porthos’ open mouth. Before he could spit it out, Aramis was there, pouring the Communion Wine in as well and then clamping Porthos’ jaw shut tightly. 

The demon screamed as white-hot agony ripped through her. Never had she felt such all-consuming pain. She writhed and twisted, nearly throwing the four men off of her but they held fast, refusing to move as the Body and Blood began to rip through her, forcefully expelling her from her chosen vessel. She sank her claws into Porthos’ soul, determined to drag him with her to hell as her final revenge on the priest. She had not expected him to fight back. She had expected him to still be *able* to and she shrieked as he ripped her bloody claws from him.

The four men watched in awe as Madeleine’s spirit was forced from Porthos’ body. As soon as it was free, Father Andre’ took up the aspergillum once more as Aramis began to recite the passages that would send her spirit to hell for good.

When it was finally over, Father Andre’ and Aramis were both panting while Athos and D’Artagnan sat stunned. After a moment, they turned their attention to Porthos and found him unconscious. Father Andre’ quickly assured them that this was both expected and normal after so difficult an experience and that they should not worry. Too exhausted to even think of traveling, they freed Porthos from his restraints and then made him as well as themselves as comfortable as they could. They would return to Toulon with Father Andre’ in the morning. There, they would rest until they were well enough to return to Paris.


	18. Chapter 18

Part 18

It had begun to rain when Aramis and D’Artagnan loaded Porthos into the back of Father Andre’s cart. Athos was already waiting inside, not foolish enough to even attempt to ride his horse. With a nod to the younger man, Aramis climbed in as well, situating himself between his two friends, one hand resting on Athos’ leg while the other lay upon Porthos’ shoulder.

While Father Andre’ headed the cart toward Toulon, D’Artagnan tied his companion’s horses to his saddle and followed along behind. He kept his eyes open for any sign of trouble but could not keep them from being drawn back to his friends. He felt a sudden surge of helplessness and ruthlessly forced it away lest one of the others see it in his eyes. He reminded himself that they all still lived and as long as they lived, there was still hope.

The trip to Toulon seemed to take forever. Father Andre’ kept the cart at a steady pace, doing his best not to jar the injured men within it. He could see how worried they both were for their friend and wished there was more that he could do for them. He knew the former priest also worried for the other man and the injuries he had sustained before he and the boy had gotten there. Shaking his head, he entrusted his worries to God, confident that He would see these men through this ordeal.

At last, the priest pulled up in front of his small church. He had considered taking them to the inn but knew that they needed peace and solitude in order to heal. His church might not be very big, but it would offer them the shelter and sanctuary that they needed. 

“I have a couple of spare rooms,” Father Andre’ said as he helped Athos from the back of the cart. “They are not much, but you are welcome to them. There is a bed in each that should fit two.”

“You have our thanks,” Athos said. 

Father Andre’ saw the look of trepidation on Athos’ face and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Would you prefer to stay together?” he asked kindly. “I’m sure young D’Artagnan and I could move one of the beds in.”

“I… That would be a kindness,” Athos admitted, turning away to hide the slight blush that stained his cheeks. It was the truth. He did not want any of his brothers out of his sight. He did not think he could stand it.

“Then that is what we shall do,” the priest told him. “Come, let us get you and your friend settled first then the boy and I can bring the other bed in. After that, I’ll see about getting some food for the lot of you. You must be starving by now.”

“I can help you with that,” Aramis said. He had not left Porthos’ side but he had heard their conversation quite clearly. “You have done so very much for us already. I would not wish to take advantage of your generosity.”

“You take no advantage,” he assured him. “Is that not what a priest is for? To administer to those in need? You have fought valiantly for your dear friends. Let someone else bear the burden for a bit.”

Aramis smiled softly and chuckled. “If all the priests I have known had been like you, I dare say I would never have left the priesthood. You are a rare man, indeed, and I shall be forever in your debt.”

The room ended up a bit cramped with two beds in it but none of them seemed to mind. Athos’ companions were just as reluctant as he was to be out of eyesight of one another, a fact for which he felt both grateful and humble. 

Once everyone had eaten and Athos’ bandages had been changed they decided to go to bed. It did not matter that the sun had not yet set. They were all exhausted beyond compare and longed to simply rest for a while. 

D’Artagnan was a bit hesitant when it came time to lie down, unsure which bed he should take. It made more sense for him to bunk with Athos as his smaller size would give the man’s injuries more room. The recent revelation about Athos’ and Aramis’ burgeoning relationship, however, made him uncertain. 

“Come, Whelp,” Athos called affectionately, holding the blanket back for the younger man. He had not missed the boy’s indecision and decided to settle the matter himself. Besides, until the question of Aramis’ true feelings for Porthos was resolved, Athos thought it best if he kept some small amount of distance between them.

“Athos?” Aramis queried, his voice betraying his confusion as well as an underlying edge of hurt.

“All is well, dear friend,” Athos told him, unable not to respond to the plea in the other man’s voice. “I merely thought you would prefer to be close to Porthos so that you might keep an eye on his condition throughout the night.”

Aramis knew there was more to it than that but he did not argue the point. They were all drained. Perhaps Athos simply needed some rest and thought the boy a more suitable partner for that. Aramis conceded he was probably right in that regard. With a last good-night to his friends, he lay down beside Porthos and let sleep take him. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

The sun was high in the sky by the time Aramis and Athos awoke. D’Artagnan had risen some time ago and had gone in search of Father Andre’ to see if there was anything he could assist the priest with. After helping him prepare a light meal for the others, he carried it back into their room and waited for his friends to awaken.

It did not take long for the smell of food to rouse the other two men. Seeing how little either man had eaten in the last few days, they were both quite ravenous. D’Artagnan helped Athos to sit up and they quickly ate the food he had prepared for them. They were just finishing when a sound from Porthos’ bed froze them all in place. 

They were by his side in an instant, each worriedly watching the other man’s eyelids flutter as he slowly came round. “Ara-mis?” Porthos rasped, his throat raw.

D’Artagnan quickly poured him a glass of wine and brought it to him while Aramis helped prop him up enough to drink. Once he had finished, he let his head fall back against the other man’s chest and sighed. “What happened?” he asked, his voice still somewhat hoarse.

“What do you remember?” Athos countered. He wanted to know what Porthos could recall before any of them volunteered anything. If the man had no recollection of the events that had transpired then Athos saw no reason to burden him with them. He was more than willing to shoulder that burden alone if it meant he could spare his friend the pain.

“Ah…” Porthos tried to think. Everything was fuzzy in his head, like he was looking through water or heavy fog. “I remember that rundown church. And strange stuff happenin’. We were there for… I don’t know… a day, I think.” 

At this Athos glanced at D’Artagnan and frowned. They had been there for three days before Father Andre’ and D’Artagnan had rescued them. The exorcism had taken another three. Porthos could recall only one and not well at that.

“What?” he asked when he saw the look on Athos’ face. “I know that look. Somethin’ ain’t right. It was longer, wasn’t it?”

“Peace, brother,” Athos soothed. “Yes, it was longer, but you seem to have no memory of it. This… this is a **good** thing. Now rest. You have been through a very trying ordeal and need to regain your strength.”

Porthos looked like he wanted to protest but Athos rose up and turned away, pulling D’Artagnan with him. He felt Aramis’ arms tighten around him and he relented, knowing he would get no more from his brothers right now.


	19. Chapter 19

Part 19

Porthos’ sleep was restless. Sickening images kept flashing through his mind, only to skitter away again. He thrashed on the bed he shared with Aramis, coming awake again and again to the man holding and comforting him. Every time he awoke, Aramis asked him what had caused it and each time he could not remember. All he could recall was a vague sense of dread and an almost overwhelming sense of loss.

Athos was not fairing much better. Though he had slept the first night due to pure exhaustion, he now found himself unable to rest, the slightest noise causing his eyes to snap open. He felt a moment of resentment at Porthos’ lack of memories of all that had transpired and immediately felt guilty for it. It had not been his friend’s fault and Athos would not hold what had happened against him. He told himself to be *glad* that Porthos was spared the memories of such horrors as Athos knew they would likely haunt his dreams for years to come.

“You want to talk about it?” D’Artagnan whispered when he felt Athos tense beside him yet again. He had managed to sleep off and on but Athos constant movement kept waking him. He did not mind. Of the four of them, he was the most fit and the lack of sleep would not bother him nearly as much as the others.

“I’m sorry to have woken you,” Athos whispered back. 

“I am not concerned about that. But I am worried about you. Tell me what troubles you so that I might help you with it.”

“Just… memories,” Athos admitted. “It is harder to let go of than I thought it would be.”

“Time will dull the edges of it, as it does all things,” D’Artagnan said. “But I am here for you if you have need of me. Even just to lend an ear… or simply to have someone to rail against the unfairness of it all to.”

“You should not have to deal with such things…”

“Athos, you have been sorely used, yet you have endured more or less intact. There is no shame in relying on your brothers. I would even go so far as to say it allows some of us to finally feel useful in this matter.”

“Useful?” Athos repeated, aghast. “Lad, we would be dead if you had not come when you did. And though you do not seem to know it, you have been of more support to me than I would have thought possible. I do not have the words to thank you...”

“None are needed. Just… know that if you wish to talk… if you need to say things that you cannot bring yourself to say to the others, then I am here and will listen and hold none of it against any of you.”

They managed to fall back asleep after that. D’Artagnan made sure to keep his arm wrapped as firmly around Athos’ middle as he could without aggravating his injuries. It seemed to help and they both succeeded in getting a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.

The following day, D’Artagnan went into town to replenish their supplies. They planned to leave for Paris the next day but knew the trip would be a slow one. Athos injuries would not allow for anything but the most sedate of travel and Aramis was still quite worried about Porthos. 

Wanting to afford Aramis and Porthos a few moments alone, Athos went in search of Father Andre’. He wanted to speak with the priest to both thank him for all he had done for them and to discern exactly what conclusions he had come to about the relationships between the men. He found him at the altar, laying out items for Mass.

“Father, do you have a moment?” Athos asked.

“Of course,” he smiled. Leaving the altar, he approached Athos and motioned toward one of the pews. “What can I do for you?”

“We shall be leaving for Paris in the morning. I just wanted to thank you again for all that you have done for us. Without your help, we would not have survived.”

“You do not need to thank me for that, Athos,” Father Andre’ told him then looked at him knowingly. “And you do not have to worry. While I cannot say that I understand or even condone the obvious relationship you have between you all, I cannot find it in myself to condemn it either. You have shown more love and devotion to each other than many of the husbands and wives within my own congregation." 

He paused then and looked away for a moment then turned back to Athos. “So… you have nothing to fear. I promise you, none shall learn of your relationship from me. Go with God, my son and may He ever shield you and those you love.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“What’s wrong with Athos?” Porthos asked once he and Aramis were alone. Now that he had regained most of his strength, he could tell that something was troubling the other man. He seemed to be almost reluctant to be close to Aramis which was a far cry from his earlier behavior.

“I am unsure,” Aramis told him, the sadness in his voice clear.

“You two fight?” Porthos pressed. 

“No,” Aramis. “Perhaps… this mission has taken a toll on us all. Perhaps he simply needs to return to the more familiar terrain of home.”

“You want me to talk to him? See if something’s botherin’ him?”

“I thank you for the offer, but no,” Aramis shook his head. “At least, not now. Once we return to the garrison, if he is still troubled, perhaps then.”

“Alright,” Porthos relented. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

They prepared to leave at first light. Porthos had insisted on helping D’Artagnan with the horses while Aramis and Athos gathered their things. He wanted to give the two at least a few minutes to be alone together. Aramis had quickly agreed, though not for the same reason. He would not corner Athos about whatever was troubling him but his bandages needed to be changed and his wounds checked before they got under way. Thus far, Porthos had remained unaware of Athos’ injuries. The others had mutely agreed to keep it that way for as long as possible. For if Porthos saw the damage done to Athos’ back, he would demand to know who had inflicted it and that would lead to all kinds of questions that none of them wanted to answer.

They really should have known that fate would not be so kind as to keep Porthos in the dark indefinitely. Had they told D’Artagnan that they were going to redress Athos’ wounds, he might have been able to keep Porthos outside, or at least delay him. However, the younger man had been unaware and had thought nothing of it when Porthos had ducked back inside for something he had forgotten.

When he strode back into the room Aramis was just removing the last of the bandages. Athos sat facing the opposite wall, his entire back bared to Porthos’ view. Porthos could only stare as memories assaulted him like blows from a truncheon. _His hand around Athos’ throat. Athos on his knees. Athos’ gun shoved inside his mouth. Athos’ body, limp and bleeding, hanging from his wrists._

Porthos felt his stomach roil as the memories continued. All of the vile things he had spewed at his friends rang inside his head. _The threats. The taunts. The **lies!** How he had tried to break them._ Feeling his body start to rebel, he dashed from the room, barely making it outside before dropping to his knees and heaving up the contents of his stomach.

By the time the roaring in his head stopped, D’Artagnan was at his side. He could feel the boy rubbing his back soothingly as he tried his best to calm him. He realized then that he was crying but he did not care. He had hurt his brothers. He had nearly killed Athos. And if D’Artagnan had not come when he did, he would have **raped** the man. 

“Porthos, please. Try to calm down. Please… just breath,” D’Artagnan whispered, his tone as soft as if he spoke to a frightened child rather than a grown man near twice his size.

“What have I done?” he gasped out, choking on his tears as he sat back and tried to get his breath.

“You have done nothing,” D’Artagnan told him stubbornly. “It was that demon. They do not blame you, Porthos.” Porthos opened his mouth to argue but D’Artagnan held up his hand to forestall him. “Let’s go back inside. Then you can see for yourself that none of us hold you to blame.”

Docilely, Porthos allowed the younger man to help him to his feet. He was shaking as he allowed himself to be led back into their shared room. When they got inside, they found Aramis helping Athos into his shirt, his wounds freshly bandaged. 

“Thank God,” Aramis sighed in relief. “We were just about to come looking for you. Are you alright, my friend?”

Porthos moved out of D’Artagnan’s grip and over to the bed. He dropped down on it, unable to even look at the other two men. He was still shaking, unable to even attempt to try to stop. His eyes seemingly glued to the floor, he forced himself to speak, though the words sounded as if they were being torn from his chest rather than simply spoken aloud. “Why didn’t you just kill me?” he lamented, tears running freely down his face once more.

For long moments no one spoke. Finally, Athos could stand Porthos’ pain no longer. “Because it was not you,” he said. Though his words were soft, the conviction behind them was anything but and Porthos found himself looking up at the other man in shock.

Porthos stared at him, unable to comprehend how Athos could forgive all that he had done. He held his hands up, turning them over as if they belonged to someone else. “These hands hurt you. These hands would have _killed_ you. You should have let me die.”

“Never,” Athos vowed, his voice suddenly hard. He moved forward then and took Porthos’ hands in his own before the man could pull away. “You are our brother and Aramis’ most beloved friend. I would not see you parted from his side for anything… even myself.”


	20. Chapter 20

Part 20

It took a bit longer than expected as Porthos was in no fit state to ride at first, but by mid-day they were finally under way. D’Artagnan had taken Aramis aside and handed him a small bundle wrapped in a piece of cloth. When he opened it, he found it was his silver cross along with some few of his rosary beads. In everything that had happened, he had completely forgotten about Porthos tearing it from his neck.

“I gathered what I could find,” D’Artagnan told him. “It know it isn’t all of it, but I thought you’d like to have it back. Perhaps we can get it mended once we are home.”

Aramis closed his eyes and swallowed thickly against the lump in his throat. He had no words to tell the young man how very grateful he was for everything he had done. He had grown so much during this ordeal and Aramis found himself quite proud of the man standing before him. “Thank you,” he managed at last. “You have taken such good care of us all. I do not know what we would have done without you.”

D’Artagnan clasped the man on the shoulder, squeezing lightly. “We are brothers,” was his only reply.

The ride back to Paris was slow going. Athos injuries could not withstand more than a walk and even that was taking a toll on him. D’Artagnan led the way, his eyes constantly scanning for any sign of danger. Athos nudged his horse forward until he was beside the younger man, leaving Aramis and Porthos to follow behind. He saw D’Artagnan glance at him with a frown and he merely tipped his head, acknowledging that his behavior was somewhat suspect.

Athos knew that he was purposely distancing himself from Aramis a bit in preparation of what might come. He had resolved to speak with him on the matter of his relationship with Porthos, both what it was and what he might want it to be, once they were safely back home. If it was indeed true and Aramis did harbor feelings for Porthos, then Athos would step aside. Though it would break his heart, he vowed to do whatever was within his power to help them make a go of things.

Aramis could feel Athos pulling away from him and the pain of it cut more deeply than any blade ever had. He felt a flash of irrational jealousy toward D’Artagnan but shoved it away. The boy did not feel that way toward Athos nor did Athos feel that way toward him. He was simply being to Athos what Porthos had been to him so very many times in the past. He would not begrudge Athos his need for someone to lean on, nor D’Artagnan his willingness to be that someone.

Porthos, though caught up in the foul memories of what all he had said and done, could feel Athos pulling away as well. He saw the look of sadness on Aramis’ face and guided his horse closer. He hated that he was the cause of the apparent rift between the pair. He wondered how many of the hateful lies he had spewed that Athos had taken to heart. He longed to fall at both of their feet and _beg_ them to forgive him… to tell them again and again that he had not meant what he had said… that they had been foul _lies_ spoken by a devil determined to break them in any way she could. He knew he could do none of that, though. Not now. Maybe not ever. His brothers said it was not his fault, that they did not blame him, but Athos’ continued distance spoke otherwise. 

He tried to calm himself by acknowledging that at least Aramis still appeared to trust in him. He did not shy from him even though he had more than ample reason to. Porthos shivered at the thought of losing Aramis’ trust. He could not stop remembering how he had taunted him… saying that Aramis desired him. He prayed that Aramis had dismissed it as merely another trick of the demon. For if he did not… if he began to fear what Porthos might want from him… Porthos felt his stomach clench and had to fight back a sudden wave of nausea. The very thought of Aramis fearing him, fearing his touch, his closeness, was almost more than he could endure. If that was to be his fate, he truly did wish he had let the demon drag him to hell for it could hurt no more than this.

They stopped much sooner than they normally would, owing mostly to Aramis’ concern about aggravating Athos’ injuries. Luckily, the town they stopped in had a decent inn and Athos booked them a room for the night. 

“I hope you don’t mind sharing again,” he told them. 

“Were they out of rooms?” Aramis asked. The place did not seem that busy but perhaps he was mistaken.

“No,” Athos admitted. “But I still find myself reluctant to have any of you out of my sight at the moment. I beg your indulgence for a bit longer, my friends.” While that was true of course, he was more concerned about Porthos than anyone else at the moment. He could see the despair etched in the man’s features and worried for what he might do if left to his own devices.

“If you wish us near, then we shall be near,” D’Artagnan said as if Athos’ desire alone settled the matter. “In truth, I feel much the same reluctance. Too much has transpired for me to be at ease if I cannot see my brothers with my own eyes.”

The room was not much, two beds and a small table, but it would suffice for their needs. They had dinner brought up to them as none of them felt inclined to deal with the presence of others at the moment. They split a bottle of wine between them, Athos for once, wanting a clear head rather than to lose himself in drink. Once that was finished, they merely sat in silence, each of them seemingly lost in their own thoughts.

Finally, Porthos broke the silence, his voice strained as if he was choking back tears. “I’m resignin’ my commission as soon as we get back,” he said staring steadily at the floor. 

“What?” Aramis gasped. Of all the things he had expected to hear, that had never even occurred to him. 

“Ain’t fit,” Porthos replied gruffly. “Not to serve in the regiment and… not to ride with you.” The last was spoken so softly that they almost could not hear it. The anguish in Porthos’ words, however, was quite plain. He only hoped that his departure would help to mend the rift between Aramis and Athos, at least then it would be worth something.

“Very well,” Athos said as cool and calm as if Porthos had just suggested they have a second bottle of wine brought up rather than saying he was effectively severing their brotherhood. Aramis stared at him in horror and Athos held up his hand to ward off his interruption. “Have you decided where we shall go?”

“Come again?” Porthos said, his head coming up fast and his eyes locking with Athos’ own.

Athos sighed as if put out by having to explain himself once more. He met Porthos’ eyes and held them, though, intent on trying to make the man understand. “We are brothers, Porthos. Where one goes, the others follow. Or do you truly believe Aramis will allow you to simply walk away? We will of course understand, D’Artagnan, if you would rather remain with the regiment. You have only just earned your commission. To ask you to relinquish it…”

“I ride with my brothers, Athos,” D’Artagnan cut in decisively.

“Very well then,” Athos smiled, giving their youngest a brief nod at his unwavering loyalty.

Porthos stared at them, looking from one to the other then back again. All at once, he could not hold his pain and fear inside any longer. Sliding from the bed to his knees he began to keen. “Please… please… forgive me… I am so so-sorry. Please… what I said… what I _did_ … I can’t bear it…”

Aramis was beside him in an instant, wrapping his arms around him and doing his best to soothe him as he sobbed. Athos and D’Artagnan soon joined them and all four found themselves kneeling on the floor as Porthos finally let go.

Aramis crooned as he began to gently rock Porthos. D’Artagnan rested his hand upon his thigh and Athos wrapped his fingers in Porthos’ hair and gently held his head. They stayed like that for what felt like hours, until the sobs began to die out then finally ceased and Porthos brought his tear-stained face up to look at them. 

“I do not know how you can stand to even be near me,” he told Athos. “Let alone touch me in so caring a manner. How can you not **hate** me for what I tried to do?”

“I could never hate you, Porthos,” Athos told him. He kept his voice soft and low, knowing that Porthos’ emotions were still raw.

“How can you comfort me, brother,” he asked of Aramis, a shudder running through him, “when I tried so very hard to break you?” Porthos shook his head at the memories, trying to force them from his mind. “I made you watch… watch while I…”

“As Athos has already stated, it was not you,” Aramis said firmly. 

“His back, Aramis,” Porthos nearly howled. “It… the _scars_ alone…”

“We all of us have scars. A few more will not make much difference,” Athos said mildly.

“A few?” Porthos grimaced. “Your back is a ruin, Athos. A ruin these hands created.”

“Yes, it was your hands,” Athos admitted, “but it was not your heart. That is what matters.”

“And the other?” Porthos insisted. “What I tried to do? What I would have done had D’Artagnan not arrived when he did?”

“But you did not,” Athos said gently. “And there is little use for dwelling on what might have happened. It did not. And even if it had… you would still find no censure from me.”

Porthos gaped at him, too stunned to reply. He felt fresh tears fill his eyes and let them fall. Once again, his friends held him as he poured out his anguish.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

By the time they reached the garrison they were all drained. The emotional upheaval was still wearing on them and the slow pace had taken its own toll. While Porthos had finally relented and agreed not to relinquish his commission, he was still worried. Once Captain Treville found out what he had done he could very well find himself cast out… or in the Bastille. 

“You worry too much,” Athos told him as they dismounted and led their horses to the stable. Once the horses were seen to, he turned to his brothers. “You three get something to eat and rest a bit. I will report to the Captain.”

“Do you want us to go with you?” D’Artagnan asked, ready to lend Athos whatever support he might need.

“I thank you, but no. This is a conversation that would be best had alone. Do not worry so. I will handle the matter.” With that, Athos left the other three and headed up the stairs to the Captain’s office.

Inside Treville’s office, Athos sat down. Treville raised his eyebrow at the breech in protocol but said nothing. For Athos to behave in such a way meant that something was seriously wrong. Putting aside his paperwork, he waited for the man to speak. 

Athos started at their arrival in Flamare. He left out no detail, save the nature of the relationship between himself and Aramis. He watched as Treville’s eyes widened in shock, something he had never thought to see on the Captain’s face. He concluded with their stay at Father Andre’s, seeing no reason to speak of Porthos’ pain to anyone outside of his brothers. When it was over, he merely sat and waited for Treville to take in all that he had said.

“My God,” Treville said at last, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“We shall need some time, sir,” Athos said. “We need to heal, both physically and… otherwise. I do not know how long…”

“You will have the time you need, Athos. I shall see to it,” the Captain promised. “But first, there are a few things I must ask you.”

“What do you need to know?”

“What Porthos has done,” he began haltingly. “A lesser man would see him hanged for it. I know that is not your wish. However, some justice is not uncalled for in this matter.”

Athos stared at him, at first unable to comprehend what the man was suggesting. Then his eyes hardened and his hands balled into fists. “How dare you!” Athos snarled aghast at the very idea of Porthos being *punished* for what had happened. His brother had suffered enough.

“Easy, Athos,” Treville said, holding up his hands in surrender. “I would be remiss as both your commanding officer and your friend if I had not at least asked.”

Athos continued to watch him, his eyes never losing their angry glare. “What more do you wish to know?” he demanded hotly.

“Only one more thing. Do you intend to still ride with Porthos or should I begin working on his reassignment?”

Athos stood so fast the chair he was in clattered noisily to the ground. “I shall not even deign to answer that question. You of all people, Treville, I expected better of.”

“I’m sorry, son,” he replied. “Again, I have a duty to you that I will not shirk no matter how distasteful it may be at times.”

“If that is all…”

“Almost,” Treville told him. “I have a family estate just outside of the city. It is not much but it will accommodate the four of you. I believe it will afford you the peace and solitude you will need in the days to come.”

“You realize it will likely be weeks, if not longer,” Athos told him.

“I am aware that there is a very good possibility that you four may never return to the fold,” Treville replied honestly. “Use it for as long as you need or want to. It has been empty for far too long as it is.”

“Thank you, sir,” Athos said. “I apologize…”

Treville waived him off before he could go further. “Your loyalty to your brothers is an amazing thing. Never let it be tarnished.”

“I will not.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

They arrived at Treville’s estate a few hours before sundown. While D’Artagnan went to stable their horses the others went inside to stow their gear and look over what would be their home for the foreseeable future. Once inside, Aramis directed Porthos to start a fire while he laid out supplies on the room’s long table so he could change Athos’ bandages once more. 

“Is this truly necessary?” Athos asked even as he began removing his doublet. 

“I need to check to ensure you are healing properly. Besides, those bandages are filthy from the ride. Clean ones will do you no harm.”

Athos acquiesced with a nod and carefully removed his shirt. The shoulder he had dislocated was still tender and the stitches pulled when he lifted his arms too high. Once he was down to his breeches and the bandages he sat down on the side of the table so that Aramis could work.

Aramis had just removed the last of the bandages and had turned away to lay them aside when a sharp gasp from Porthos drew the attention of both men. At the sight of the ruin that had become of Athos’ back, Porthos paled. He closed his eyes tightly against the onslaught of memories and had to grip the table to keep from falling. 

“Porthos…” Athos began, trying to think of something to say that might ease the other man’s distress.

“You should have me whipped,” Porthos moaned. Then at least he would know the physical pain that Athos had felt, if not the terror and helplessness that surely had to follow.

“Not while I draw breath,” Athos vowed, his voice taking on a decidedly deadly edge.

Aramis reached over and took Porthos hand, squeezing it hard. When he opened his eyes once more, Aramis released him and turned his attention back to Athos. The wounds were healing nicely with no sign of infection. A few of the stitches had been pulled a bit tight during their ride but none had torn loose. Satisfied, Aramis wrapped the wounds once more and helped Athos back into his shirt. 

Making up his mind, Aramis turned to Porthos as he gathered up the last of his medical supplies. “Porthos, why don’t you take D’Artagnan and explore the grounds a bit? It would not due to be caught unawares, even here.”

Porthos agreed and quickly turned and marched from the room before Athos could voice an objection. He grabbed D’Artagnan who was just coming inside and ushered him back out the door, telling him he would explain along the way. 

Aramis waited until he heard the door close behind the pair then took a steadying breath before forcing himself to speak. “Athos… have I done something to… offend you… or make you otherwise think I do not wish you near?”

“No,” Athos replied softly unable to hide the note of reluctance in his voice.

“Then have you… changed your mind about… about… us?”

“My feelings for you have not changed, Aramis. You are as dear to my heart now as you were before this nightmare began.”

“That is not the question I asked,” Aramis stated, all too aware of Athos’ various stalling techniques.

“No, it is not,” Athos agreed. “I have not changed my mind as such… but…”

“But?”

“Is it true?” Athos asked, knowing no other way to resolve the situation other than to get to the heart of the matter. “Your feelings for Porthos. Do they run deeper than they appear?”

Aramis looked down, no longer able to meet Athos’ eyes. “I… I am not sure,” he admitted at last. “He… he has been my rock, Athos. Without him, I would not have survived. I… I am so confused!”

“Peace, Aramis,” Athos said, pulling the distraught man into his arms. “It is understandable. You two have always been close. And the way he treats you, well, it would be impossible not to see the love in that.”

“But I love you,” Aramis whispered as he clutched Athos’ shirt.

“And I love you as well. That will never change regardless of whether you are my lover or Porthos’.” He heard Aramis’ sharp intake of breath and hurried on before the man could counter him. “If he is amenable… if he desires you as you desire him… then I will step aside…”

“The hell you will!” Porthos thundered as he stormed back into the room, D’Artagnan at his heels. “He bloody well _loves_ you, Athos.”

“He loves you as well,” Athos replied in an infuriatingly calm manner. He could feel Aramis shaking in his arms and tightened his embrace. “And has done for a very long time, I’d wager. Much longer than he has even entertained the thought of me.”

“So what then? You step aside and go back to being miserable while me and Aramis set up house? Is that your grand plan?”

“I shall not be miserable,” Athos assured, though who he was trying to assure was uncertain. “Knowing the two of you are happy will be more than enough to sustain me. As long as I still have our brotherhood I need little else.”

“You are a liar and a fool,” Porthos spat angrily.

“Alright, that’s enough,” D’Artagnan said stepping between the two men. “Can you both not see what you are doing to Aramis?”

At D’Artagnan’s words, both men stopped and looked at Aramis. He had his head buried in Athos chest, his hands gripping his shirt tight enough to turn his knuckles white. He was trembling violently and Athos and Porthos both felt a pang of guilt at causing him such distress. As one, they led him over in front of the fire and sank down to the floor with him, doing their best to calm and reassure him. Once they were settled, Aramis released Athos with one hand so that he could latch onto Porthos with it as if somehow tethering them both to him would keep him from losing them.

D’Artagnan went about building up the fire and finding a bottle of wine, muttering under his breath about idiots who could not see what was right in front of their faces. He considered simply locking the three of them inside a closet and leaving them there until they figured it out. Somehow, he thought they might actually starve to death before that happened. Situating himself across from them, D’Artagnan kept a careful watch, making it clear in his bearing that he expected them to stay exactly where they were.

They managed to get a little wine into Aramis, enough to help calm him a bit. With Athos and Porthos pressed up against him and the warmth of the roaring fire, Aramis eventually fell into a fitful sleep with the two men soothing him whenever he began to grow restless.

“You’re not leaving him,” Porthos told Athos over Aramis’ sleeping form, careful to keep his voice pitched low so as not to wake him.

“And what of you, my friend?” Athos countered. “You cannot tell me you do not love him for I will not believe it. Nor can you tell me you do not want him. If that were the case you would have said so already.”

“I ain’t denyin’ nothin’,” Porthos ground out. “But that… that’s not what he needs from me.”

“Maybe not before,” Athos conceded, “but he is not that man any more. You have healed wounds in him that most would never recover from. Do not let the way you saw him before determine the way you see him now.”

“Fine,” Porthos snapped, unable to come up with an argument to that which did not sound ridiculous to his own ears. “What about you then?”

Athos looked down at the man sleeping between them affectionately. “I love him with all my heart and soul. And his happiness means a great deal more to me than my own does… as does yours.”

“Athos…”

“Is it so hard to conceive? I may be *in* love with Aramis but he is not the only one who holds my heart in his hands. All of my brothers do, to one extent or another.” Athos inclined his head toward D’Artagnan as he spoke, letting him know that he was as equally valued as the other two, if in a slightly different way.

“But you would give him up,” Porthos pressed. “You would deny yourself his love so that he might be with me.”

“Of course I would,” Athos said in exasperation.

“And do you not think that I would do the same?”

“I know it,” Athos told him. “For you are a good man and you are forever putting others before yourself.”

“Why do you make this so difficult?” D’Artagnan asked at last, unable to hold his tongue any longer.

“What do you mean?” Athos replied with a frown.

“Is it written somewhere that love must ever and always only be between two? You have said yourself that we all hold your heart. If the same is true of Aramis and Porthos, which I must believe it is, then why does anyone need to walk away?” While his friends had been recovering from their ordeal, D’Artagnan had spoken at length with Father Andre’ and had come to quite a few conclusions about these men and their relationship.

“But… what you suggest…” Athos began only for D’Artagnan to cut him off.

“Is no more forbidden than two men loving each other to begin with. What you do already is enough to see us all hanged if it became known. I do not see how it could get much worse than that.”

“D’Artgnan…”

“Don’t!” the younger man snarled when Athos tried to speak. “I stand with my brothers, be it at the garrison or the gallows. I thought I made that plain.”

Both men fell silent, letting his words sink in. It was clear that neither he nor Porthos had really considered such a course. Athos thought it had merit, assuming of course that Porthos looked on *him* with any semblance of desire. He already knew that he found the large Musketeer… stimulating. He was also not entirely sure how Aramis would reach to such a suggestion. There were still a great many demons that were not yet laid to rest where Aramis’ past was concerned and Athos was not sure if this would be a help or a hindrance.


	21. Chapter 21

Part 21

Porthos sat quietly contemplating what the Whelp had suggested. He had to admit, he had never considered such a course of action, mostly because he had refused to allow himself to even think of Aramis in such a manner after what had happened to him. While Porthos knew that the lad’s idea would solve their problem, he was still wary. After the attack, Aramis had relied on him almost exclusively. In some regards, the man still did. Porthos was reluctant to do anything that might disrupt that. 

Porthos was also concerned about what the lad had said about the dangers involved. He knew there was a danger to the three of them if Athos and Aramis were ever found out, but he had not taken D’Artagnan into consideration. While he might be loath to drag the lad even further into danger because of this, he realized that it was probably already too late to spare him the noose. 

Pushing thoughts of D’Artagnan and as yet unrealized fates aside, he mulled over the idea of the three of them. Porthos had to admit, he would feel much more at ease with the two men’s relationship if he was actually there to ensure that things did not get out of hand. He did not think that Athos would intentionally push Aramis past his limits but it was so easy to misjudge, especially when passions ran hot. 

Porthos thought about Athos then and what it might mean to have that sort of relationship with the man. Though Athos showed no outward signs of fear of Porthos, he knew that did not necessarily mean anything. Athos was well-versed in hiding his emotions. If he did not want them to know what he was feeling, they would not until it was far too late. 

And while Athos’ own attack… Porthos attack **on** him… had not gone nearly as far as Aramis’, it had still left its mark. Athos may not have voiced any protest at D’Artagnan’s suggestion, but that did not mean that he was willing, or even able, to enter into a relationship with the man who had come so close to brutalizing him.

He weighed the idea of both of them simply “sharing” Aramis but he knew instinctively that it would never work. No, they would have to find a way to come together as well, at least to some degree, if there was going to be any chance of this succeeding. As Porthos considered all the ways he and Athos might find to fit together, he realized that he had no idea how much experience the man had with other men, if any. He knew of Aramis’ lone traumatic experience, and he himself had a few such dalliances in the past, mostly while he was still in the Court, but he had no idea of Athos’ experience in that regard. Porthos resolved then that he and Aramis would speak with Athos before anything was allowed to happen between them. The one thing he did not want was to end up inadvertently pushing *Athos* into something he might not be ready for. 

Porthos felt himself starting to get a headache as all of the variables began whirling about his head. For a moment, he considered simply giving up on the whole thing, but one look at the man sleeping peacefully between them and Porthos knew that he could not do it, not if there was any chance at all that he could have something more with Aramis without costing Athos his own prospect at happiness. 

Porthos decided then, that if Athos was willing, they would let Aramis decide. If he wanted to try then they would do so, letting him… and Athos… set the pace accordingly, allowing only as much to happen as both men were comfortable with. If Aramis did not want to try… if he could not wrap his head around the thought of taking both of them as lovers… then Porthos was unsure what would happen. He did not want to give up his chance with Aramis and he did not think Athos would allow it anyway. He would probably enlist the Whelp’s help and the boy was loyal enough that he would do so. 

On the other hand, he did not want to see Athos have to give Aramis up. He knew it would be like an open wound to Athos whenever he saw them together, though the man would never let it show. Porthos well and truly did not know what they would do if it came down to it, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that neither he nor Athos would be cruel enough to force Aramis to choose between them. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

While Porthos pondered D’Artagnan’s words, Athos did the same. He glanced over at the other man every once in a while to try to gauge his reaction. He could see that Porthos was giving the idea a healthy amount of consideration with only the occasional frown or shake of his head to indicate the direction of his thoughts.

Athos knew that whatever was decided, he would not compel Porthos to do something he did not truly want. He would have to be careful. Porthos’ guilt over what had happened could easily cloud his judgment, making him agree to something he normally would not. Athos would have to be vigilant in assuring that his friend’s desires were indeed genuine. 

Considering all of the possibilities, Athos knew they could probably simply share Aramis for a time, though it would be difficult to maintain. He knew in his heart that, eventually, it would not hold and one of them would be forced to step away. If that happened, he would do everything in his power to ensure that that person was him.

As he thought about it, he understood Porthos’ hesitation and felt nothing but respect for his desire to protect Aramis at all costs. He understood all too well the position of trust that Porthos was in where Aramis was concerned, even if the pair did not acknowledge it, and knew that Porthos would never do anything to abuse that position. He understood now the safe harbor that Porthos provided to Aramis and could appreciate his unwillingness to take that from him.

On the one hand, Athos thought it might possibly make things easier for Aramis if Porthos were there to act as his unofficial guardian in the matter. Athos knew it would ease his own mind in that he would no longer worry so much about unintentionally pushing Aramis into something he was not yet ready for.

On the other hand, however, Athos could see how Aramis could easily become overwhelmed at the very idea of *two* men lying with him. The fact that it was Athos and Porthos would matter very little if Aramis suddenly found himself thrust back into his memories, trapped and vulnerable once more. 

If Athos was being completely honest with himself, he had to admit that he, too, might have a bit of problem with Aramis and Porthos both, though Porthos was the greater concern. The last thing he wanted to do was to agree to something and be unable to follow through. As much as he hated to admit it, the entire incident, from the various threats to the actual attacks on his person, had left their mark upon him. While he did not feel afraid of Porthos as they were now, he could not guarantee that would still be true in a more intimate setting. And Athos had no doubt that if he failed in this, if he agreed to try and then could not follow through with it, that it would add to the Porthos’ guilt to a dangerous degree.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

It was late into the night when Aramis finally awoke. He was surprised to find that Athos and Porthos had not moved from their respective spots, both men still bracketing him protectively. For a moment, Aramis felt an almost overwhelming surge of love for his two friends. As he looked about the shadowy room, he saw D’Artagnan stretched out and sleeping across from them. He was sitting against a chair, his head laid back on the seat.

Aramis shifted slightly, transferring his weight from one hip to the other. The subtle movement was enough to wake both men and he soon found himself being soothed and petted by two pair of hands. “It’s alright,” he managed after a moment. “I’m awake now. I’m… I’m sorry I got so upset before. I realize I over-reacted.”

“Hush, Aramis,” Porthos told him fondly.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Athos added. “We are the ones that behaved deplorably.”

“And we’re sorry,” Porthos finished.

“How are you feeling?” Athos asked after a moment, still a bit worried.

“Raw,” Aramis admitted, seeing no reason to hide the truth. He realized then that he still had a grip on both men’s shirts and forced his stiff fingers to let go.

Porthos chuckled as he took one of Aramis’ hands and gently massaged it. “Don’t worry. We’re not goin’ anywhere.”

“If they even think of trying, I will shoot them myself,” D’Artagnan added as he raised his head up off the chair and looked at his brothers, Aramis’ soft chuckle more than worth the ache in his neck.

Athos glanced over at Porthos then, unsure if should bring up the idea that D’Artagnan had suggested. At Porthos’ encouraging nod, he took a deep breath and began. “While you were sleeping, it seems that our dear D’Artagnan has come upon a solution to our dilemma. Assuming, of course, that everyone is amenable.”

Aramis looked at Athos, his brow knitting in concern then turned to look at Porthos. The confusion in his eyes warred with the hope he could not hide and Porthos squeezed his hand reassuringly. “I need to ask you something, brother,” Porthos told him.

“Ask,” Aramis replied, his voice sounding much more confident than he actually felt.

“I need to know… I need to know… if you want me like you want Athos… or think you might anyway.” Porthos held his breath while he waited for Aramis to reply. From everything Athos had said earlier, he was fairly sure he knew the answer but he needed to hear it from Aramis’ own mouth.

Aramis looked down at his lap and picked idly at his breeches. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Athos any more than he already had but he would not lie to this man. He could not. Unable to actually voice the words aloud, he settled for nodding instead.

“Alright,” Porthos replied, licking his lips nervously. “That’s good then.” When Aramis looked up at him sharply, he smiled. “You see, we both want you as well. And the Whelp, well he suggested that there was no reason why we couldn’t both… you know… *be* with you. If you wanted, that is.”

Aramis just stared at Porthos, agape, then turned his head to look at Athos. He could see the sincerity in both of their faces and it made his heart start to pound in his chest. He could feel the first stirrings of panic welling up at the thought of _both_ of them taking him, then Porthos’ hand was rubbing soothing circles on his back as they tried to calm him once more.

It seemed to take forever, but eventually Aramis managed to get his pounding heart back under control. He stared resolutely at the floor, flushing in shame at the pathetic picture he was certain he made. ‘What must his dear brothers think of him now?’ he wondered.

As Aramis worked on calming himself down, D’Artagnan sat up, moving forward and crossing his legs. He waited until Aramis was back under control before speaking. “What about it scares you so?” he asked. “Is it just that it is the two of them? That surely must be it for I refuse to believe that you fear the touch of either of these men.”

“I… That is… You are right, of course,” Aramis finally managed. He looked at D’Artagnan and saw the concern in his eyes and his earnest desire to understand so that he might help them. “Two years ago, I had a rather… unfortunate… encounter. It was my one and only experience with another man and… well, it has obviously let its mark.”

“But you know that they would never hurt you,” D’Artagnan continued. “I dare say they would either of them willingly cut out their own hearts before allowing themselves to hurt you.”

“I know this,” Aramis insisted. “I do. But the past does not always rest so easy. It comes back when one least expects it.” He looked at Athos and Porthos and felt tears sting his eyes at the acceptance and understanding he saw reflected back at him. He understood then that both men were preparing themselves to step back, to simply be his friends, his brothers again, if that was what he needed. “I love them both so much…”

“Then have faith in them,” D’Artagnan told him. “You have more faith than the three of us combined. Put that faith in them now. You have trusted them in everything else, surely you can trust them to know you and take care of you in this as they do in all else.”

D’Artagnan’s words of faith and trust seemed to chase away the last of the panic that had gripped him. He knew he could trust in his friends, that he could have faith in them. Settling back between Athos and Porthos, he let himself relax and tried to wrap his mind around this latest turn of events.

With Aramis seemingly willing to at least consider D’Artagnan’s suggestion, Porthos decided to forge ahead. There were still many things that needed to be ironed out between them and the sooner the better as far as he was concerned. “Guess now it’s up to you, Athos,” Porthos said carefully, aware of the very shaky ground he was treading upon.

“What do you mean?” Athos replied. He wanted no miscommunication between them. In this, they had to speak plainly or run the risk of failing before ever truly managing to begin.

“We both want him, we’re agreed on that much. But… I don’t think this thing’ll work if it’s just me an’ him and you an’ him. Not for long anyway.”

“I concur,” Athos said with a tilt of his head, glad that he and Porthos were on the same page for that much at least. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to continue. “So I must ask, do you, Porthos, desire _me_ at all?”

“I… I really don’t want to answer that,” Porthos said reluctantly.

Athos tried not to flinch at the rejection. He swallowed thickly, understanding that Porthos would be willing to put up with him however much he had to, even going so far as to bed him, in order to maintain his relationship with Aramis. 

Porthos saw the way Athos took his words and felt his stomach drop. He could tell exactly what the other man was thinking – that Porthos would simply use him for sex in order to facilitate his relationship with Aramis. Reaching across Aramis, Porthos cupped Athos’ jaw startling him. “How you could ever think I do not want you is a mystery to me. I did not want to say because I did not want you to feel an obligation… not to me… not after…”

“Porthos…”

“You don’t understand,” Porthos said, shaking his head. “The last thing I want… the last thing I could _stand_ is for you to think that I would have done those things to you… that it was me and not that devil… that she tried to hurt you like that because of something **I** felt.”

“I would never think that of you,” Athos told him. “You cannot control who you desire. Believe me, I have tried. Even if… even if she did pick up on your… your desire, that still does not make her actions your fault. In truth, if she did pick up on your desires then I am glad she chose to focus on me rather than Aramis.”

“Athos,” Aramis gasped, wanting to deny the man’s words but knowing that Athos actually meant them.

“I would sell my soul for you, love,” Athos told him gently. “Do you truly think I would balk at trading my body?”

Aramis did not know what to say. The depth of Athos’ feelings for him… the proof of how very much the man loved him and was willing to sacrifice for him, left him speechless.

When Aramis remained quiet, Athos let him be and turned his attention back to Porthos. “I must warn you, you may have to be patient with me, my friend. I… I trust you, I truly do, but…” 

“You do not have to explain yourself to me,” Porthos told him. “I will be as patient with you as you need me to be. I would never… never ask more of you than you were willing to give. Please… please tell me you know that… That you believe me.”

“I do,” Athos promised. “I do.”

Porthos felt some of his tension bleed away at Athos’ words. “Well, we have but one question left, it would seem,” he said after taking a moment to compose himself once more.

“What would that be?”

“We have spoken of our desire for Aramis and his for us. And I have told you of my… my desire for you. What of you, Athos? Do you desire me as well? I know you do not love me, not as you love Aramis. I am not asking for that. But I would not have you lie with me if you do not truly wish it for your own sake.”

“I would not do that to you, my friend,” Athos promised him. “And you are right. I do not love you as I do Aramis, but that is not to say that I do not love you at all, for I do. Very much. And… and I… I have desired you, though I have not often let myself think on that desire.”

Before Porthos could reply, Aramis grabbed hold of both of their arms. “Enough,” he whispered, simply unable to take any more of the emotional scene unfolding around him. The possibilities were too many and he needed time to come to grips with them. “Please… for now. Enough.”


	22. Chapter 22

Part 22

With the other three men seeming content to remain where they were in front of the fire, D’Artagnan felt safe enough to stretch his legs for a bit. The prolonged relative inactivity was starting to bother him and he needed to get out a bit. He trusted the others to keep each other safe, knowing that Treville would not have sent them here to recuperate if it were not reasonably free of potential dangers. 

Taking his horse from its stall, D’Artagnan saddled her up. Dawn was approaching and the idea of going for a ride seemed like a good one, allowing him some much needed activity without taking him too far from his brothers should they have need of him. Decision made, he spurred his horse into an easy trot and set about exploring the area around their temporary home. 

Meanwhile, the others fell back into a light sleep, the heat from the fire and their own overtaxed emotions draining them. For Aramis, the entire situation was simply too immense to contemplate at the moment and his mind cocooned him in a dreamless sleep, letting the rawness of the day fade away. Porthos felt much the same way Aramis did, though not quite so strongly. He was more concerned with trying to keep from overwhelming Aramis while not allowing Athos to distance himself from them. It was a balancing act that was proving harder than anything he had ever undertaken and Porthos welcomed the temporary haven that sleep provided. 

Athos, however, was a different story. He, too, had succumbed to sleep, but unlike his brothers, his unconscious did not see fit to offer him the same sanctuary as theirs did. Instead, Athos found himself once again in the ruined church, the demon in full possession of Porthos once more. This time, though, he was the one tied helplessly to a pillar watching while Aramis hung limply by his wrists, his back laid open from the scourge in Porthos’ hand. 

He moaned as Porthos pressed himself against Aramis’ blood covered back and ground against him obscenely. When Porthos stepped back and began working at the laces of his breeches, Athos began to beg, pleading with the demon not to do this to Aramis… to take him instead… to kill him… anything but force him to watch helplessly while Aramis was defiled.

Athos began to moan aloud, thrashing as his body fought the imaginary ropes that held him in the dream. Tears ran down his face as he struggled in vain to free himself and somehow stop what about to happen. 

A particularly loud cry had Porthos and Aramis both jerking awake. They looked about in confusion for a moment before their eyes fell on Athos. He was alternating between tossing his head and trembling, a constant low moan escaping his lips. Both men immediately reached for him, desperate to bring him out of whatever nightmare had him in its grip. 

As soon as he felt hands on him, Athos jerked. To him, it felt as if the ropes binding him were tightening even more as they kept him imprisoned. With a wretched cry, he jolted awake, rolling instinctively away from the others and coming up in a low crouch, ready to defend himself if need be.

“Easy, Athos,” Porthos soothed from a few feet away. He made sure to stay where he was, keeping a firm grip on Aramis as well. Athos was at least still partly trapped in his dream and Porthos knew just how deadly that could be. He would not let either of them approach him until he was sure Athos was seeing **them** and not whatever had frightened him so.

Athos blinked a few times and took a deep, shuddering breath. He hung his head for a moment, needing to get himself back under control before he faced his brothers. He knew they would not hold such an unseemly display against him but he could not help the feeling of shame that came with such a show of weakness.

“Athos…” Aramis called softly when the man continued to stare at the floor, making no move to even look at them let alone return to their side.

“I am alright,” Athos said after a moment. Pushing back his humiliation, Athos forced himself to look up at his brothers and offer them a hint of a smile. It was not much, but it was all he was capable of at the moment and he knew they would understand.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Porthos asked. He still did not let go of his hold on Aramis. While Athos seemed to be back with them, the fact that he did not approach, did not really move from the crouch he had rolled into, spoke of the turmoil still raging inside of him. 

“Twas just a dream,” Athos tried to deflect.

“A nightmare more like,” Porthos countered.

Athos inclined his head in silent agreement. He took a deep breath then made himself move out of his defensive crouch and onto his knees. Slowly, he crossed the short distance back to where the other two men lay and gingerly returned to his resting spot beside them.

Aramis latched onto him at once, wrapping his arms around him as tightly as he could while still being mindful of his healing wounds. “We are here for you,” he whispered. “Please do not shut us out.”

Athos returned the embrace with one arm, the other seeking out Porthos’ hand and gripping it tightly. “I do not mean to,” he admitted. “But some things are hard for me. You know this. It was just a nightmare. I expect to have many more for a very long time but they are nothing I cannot endure.”

“Was it… what I did?” Porthos asked. The words felt like broken glass as he spoke them, cutting his throat to shreds. He knew they needed to speak of this… to be able to speak of what all had happened… if they were ever going to get past it. They could not let Athos hide behind his pride just as he could not be allowed to wallow in his guilt or Aramis his fears.

“In a manner,” Athos admitted. He sighed. He did not want to hurt Porthos but he understood. To let this fester would kill them just as surely as a festering sword wound. The poison had to be lanced, repeatedly, until the wound bled clean no matter how painful that lancing might be.

“You do not…” Aramis began only for Athos to cut him off.

“I do.” He took another breath and started to talk. “It was the church, but… our roles were different. I was tied to the pillar to watch while Aramis… Aramis was beaten. I… I begged the demon to stop… to take me… but it ignored me. I awoke before it could make me watch… make me watch…”

“Oh, Athos,” Aramis whispered, tightening his grip even more.

“It is my greatest fear,” Athos told them. “To be helpless while those I love are made to suffer. There is no fate more dire than that for me.”

They fell silent after that. Porthos continued to grip Athos’ hand tightly while Aramis clung to him. The bigger man did not even try to stem the tears that ran down his cheeks. He had hurt them both so badly and yet they stayed by his side, called him friend and brother and… possibly lover. He knew he did not deserve them, not after what he had done, but they seemed to think differently. He would have to trust in that until he could find a way to trust in himself again.

When D’Artagnan returned from his ride, he found them curled tightly together on the floor where he had left them. He knew right away that something was wrong, though. Athos was pale and both Aramis and Porthos were holding onto him.

“What happened?” he asked, moving to Athos’ side.

“Just a bad dream,” Athos tried to assure him.

“Damn it!” D’Artagnan swore, surprising the other three. “I knew I should not have left you. I’m sorry.”

“Enough of that,” Athos told him. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I should have been here.”

“D’Artagnan… while this may be the first nightmare of that time that I remember, I assure you it is not the first I have had, nor will it be the last. Do you plan to sit by my bedside in an attempt to shield me from them forever?”

“I would if I thought you’d let me,” he replied softly, his eyes full of warmth and affection as they stared down into Athos’ own. 

“That would not be much of a life for you,” Athos countered.

“But it would be the life I chose,” D’Artagnan replied. 

“You are far too good and decent a man to bind yourself to the likes of me,” Athos told him. “I do not deserve such caring. Not by any of you really…”

“You deserve every good thing we can give you,” D’Artagnan insisted. “I am sorry I was not here to wake you sooner. It did not even occur to me that, with as exhausted as all of you were, that waking might prove difficult.”

“Athos is right,” Porthos told him, his voice more gruff than normal as he fought to control his own wayward emotions. “Not your fault. You’ve had to play wet nurse to the lot of us too much as it is.”

D’Artagnan’s eyes flashed and he gave Porthos a hard look. “I do not consider looking after my brothers as ‘playing wet nurse’.”

“Peace, lad,” Porthos said at once, grinning despite the mood at the young man’s bravery. “I meant no insult. Only that we know how much you’ve done for us and we don’t begrudge you a few moments to yourself now and again.”

“Porthos is right,” Aramis put in. “As is Athos. This will not be the last of the nightmares for any of us. I dare say, as we regain our strength, that they will grow more frequent as our minds no longer feel so great a need to protect us from them.”

Athos let go of Aramis and reached out to take D’Artagnan’s hand. “We know this has been difficult on you as well. Just know that we are here for you, too, if you have need of us.”

Deciding breakfast was in order, D’Artagnan went to find the kitchen while the others pulled themselves from the floor. Once they were up, they joined their youngest member in the kitchen and watched while he bustled about with much more ease than any of them would have possessed.

“You’ve done this before,” Aramis remarked.

“Grew up on a farm, remember,” D’Artagnan grinned. 

When they had finished eating they took a walk around the house, exploring the various rooms. Aramis was pleased to find a small library with comfortable looking chairs for reading. They also discovered that, for once, there was no shortage on bedrooms. 

“Looks like we don’t have to share for once,” Porthos remarked his tone slightly forced.

“Yeah… I guess not,” D’Artagnan said with a frown. He knew that Athos did not want to sleep alone and, even more, did not want any of **them** to sleep alone. “Not sure I’m happy about that myself.”

“Has our Whelp gotten used to sharing a bed?” Aramis teased lightly.

“More like our guard dog gets twitchy when his charges are out of sight, I think,” Athos remarked.

“Can you blame me?” D’Artagnan asked.

“Not at all,” Athos replied. “We’ll take this room. I’m sure Aramis and Porthos will find one that suits them as well.”

Porthos’ brow creased at the thought of Athos yet again removing himself from them. “The Whelp can bunk with me,” he offered, hoping to allow Athos and Aramis some time alone together. 

“That’s not necessary,” Athos said, politely declining Porthos offer. “As Aramis said, he has grown accustomed to sleeping with me. I’m not at all sure he could adjust to your snoring.”

At a squeeze of Aramis’ hand, Porthos let the matter drop for now. He would talk to Athos in private later. This refusal to be alone with Aramis was starting to grate on his nerves and he wanted to get to the bottom of it. They had no hope of this working if they were not honest with one another.

As it happened, Porthos was able to get Athos alone a few hours later. Aramis had instilled himself in the library, ostensibly to ready, but Porthos knew he simply wanted a bit of solitude to think everything over. The Whelp had gone outside to turn the horses out into the pasture for a while, leaving Porthos and Athos alone in the main room. 

“I want to know what’s goin’ on with you, Athos,” Porthos growled as he strode over to where Athos sat in front of the fire cleaning his pauldron. 

Athos froze. His heart began to pound and every instinct inside of him screamed at him to _run_. Swallowing thickly, he licked his lips and looked up at the other man. “I… uh… I don’t…”

“There a reason you won’t let yourself be alone with Aramis?” he demanded. “You’re makin’ him think you don’t really want him or somethin’.”

“No,” Athos said, his voice strained. “It’s not… I don’t…” He paused and shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts. The sudden spike of fear he had felt had sent them scattering and it was taking him a moment to regroup.

“Then what is it?” Porthos’ snapped, his anger making him appear much more threatening than he realized.

“I… I simply do not wish to… to in-influence his decision,” Athos said at last. “I only wished to give him space so that he might decide what he truly wants without the… pressure of my presence.”

Porthos simply stared at him, then shook his head. He did not understand how Athos could think that being near Aramis would somehow cloud his judgment. As he continued to look at the other man, he took in his rapid breathing and the way Athos’ eyes began to dart around the room, as if looking for a means of escape. Porthos realized then that his hands were balled into tight fists and that he was looming over Athos. He quickly took a step back and help up his open hands. “I’m sorry,” he rushed out. “I didn’t mean… You know I wouldn’t…”

“I know,” Athos told him, though the white-knuckle grip he had on the pauldron he was cleaning spoke otherwise. “You simply caught me off guard.”

“Do not lie, Athos,” Porthos told him. “I scared you. I did not mean to, but I did. I am so sorry.”

“You are right,” he admitted. “You did scare me. But I know it was unintentional. In my mind and my heart I knew you would not harm me, but my instincts, I believe they are still recovering. No harm was done, my friend. Do not let it distress you.”

Porthos nodded his acquiescence, unwilling to argue with Athos after frightening him. He made a mental note to be more mindful of his temper around Athos and Aramis both. “Will you at least think about spending some time with him, just the two of you?” he asked softly. “He misses you.”

“I will,” Athos promised. “But I still think it best if I do not share a bed with him. At least not for now. When he has decided, when he knows what he wants, then we shall see.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter this time. More soon.
> 
> Also, I'm not overly thrilled with where this went...

Part 23

Aramis thought he could get rather used to having a library of his own. He rarely got to indulge the scholar inside him and it was nice to do so once again. The cozy room also provided him the perfect opportunity to think on everything that had happened… and everything that he might wish to happen.

He thought about Porthos first as he was the one he was most unsure of his feelings for at the moment. He loved the man, that much he knew, but it was the form of that love that confused him. He had thought it only brotherly but now he knew he had been deluding himself. What he still needed to determine, however, was just how far those not-so-brotherly feelings went and if he truly wanted to risk upsetting the balance between them. 

Porthos was his rock, much the same way that D’Artagnan had become to Athos. Aramis did not want to lose that. He did not think he could *afford* to lose that. Not after everything that had happened. But he did not want to let his dependence on Porthos’ strength deny them a chance for something more. Porthos deserved better than that. 

Deciding he at least owed it to the man to see just how far his feelings for him ran, Aramis went in search of his friend. He found him in the kitchen, taking stock of the pantry. “Hungry already?” Aramis teased.

Porthos turned around with a grin. “Just making sure we’ve enough provisions to last a bit. Would hate to run out of food and have to eat one of you.”

Aramis barked out a laugh and held out his hand to his friend. “Come with me?” he asked. 

Porthos nodded and took his hand, letting Aramis lead him back into the small library. “I’ve been thinking,” he said as he turned to face Porthos then slowly closed the distance between them until they were nearly touching.

“Have you?” Porthos replied, his throat suddenly dry. 

“Yes,” Aramis nodded. “I have been thinking that I would like to figure out what there is between us… what there could be. And I would like very much to kiss you, if I may.”

Porthos swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. He felt his body respond to Aramis’ words but forced himself to remain still. “You may,” he said, feeling a bit foolish at the formality but understanding that Aramis needed it right now.

Aramis closed the few remaining inches between them and brought his lips to Porthos’. He could feel the tension in the other man and brought his hands up to squeeze his arms encouragingly. A moment later, Porthos’ mouth was opening under his and a broad tongue was sweeping into his mouth making Aramis moan. 

They kissed for long minutes, their bodies pressed together from chest to groin as they gripped and pulled at one another. Porthos’ growls of pleasure and want made Aramis ache inside and he moaned into the other man’s mouth again and again. Finally, Porthos made himself take Aramis by the shoulders and push him back, breaking their kiss and putting a scant few inches between their bodies. Both men were panting as they looked at one another taking in the desire they saw reflected back at them. 

“Well, I guess that answers the question of how much I want you,” Aramis said with a chuckle. 

“Guess so,” Porthos grinned back. “Good thing you brought us someplace private to find out. Wouldn’t have wanted to be walked in on.”

Unbeknownst to the two friends, they had not had quite as much privacy as they had hoped. Taking Porthos’ advice, Athos had gone in search of Aramis, hoping to spend some time with him. When he opened the library door, however, he had found his two friends in a heated embrace. Stunned, he had watched them for a moment before his sense had returned and he backed out of the room as silently as he had entered.

Without conscious thought, Athos sought out D’Artagnan. He found him in the stables, cleaning one of their saddles. As soon as he saw Athos, he set the saddle aside and moved to his friend. “What happened?” he asked as he led Athos over to where he had been sitting. He pressed the man down until he was resting on a bale of hay then sat down beside him.

“I went to find Aramis. I wanted to spend some time with him for a bit.”

“And?” D’Artagnan pressed when Athos failed to continue.

“He and Porthos were in the library. Together.”

D’Artagnan frowned, not understanding why that would cause Athos to become so upset, then realization dawned. _Together_. “But… isn’t that what you wanted?” he asked as gently as he could. “For him to be with both of you?”

Athos nodded. It was what he had wanted. He had just not expected it to be so painful to watch. “I am being foolish, I know,” Athos admitted softly.

“You are not,” his friend assured him. 

“I just… I had expected… I had not expected to simply _find_ them like that,” Athos explained. “I do not even know what it means. Has Aramis decided he wants both of us? Or is it Porthos he wants and they simply do not know how to tell me? I think it must be the latter, otherwise they…”

“Athos, stop,” D’Artagnan interrupted. “As you said, you do not know all the facts of the situation. Do not jump to conclusions until you do. Our friends would not be so callous as to go behind your back in this. If Aramis has truly decided then they would tell you so.”

Athos blew out a breath but said nothing else. He certainly did not want to believe that his friends would treat him in such a manner. He knew he should return to the house and confront them but he was not sure he could handle their answer. Instead, his eyes landed on the saddle the other man had been tending and he decided to remove himself from the situation for a bit… at least until he could think clearly again.

“Since you are in the midst of tending to my saddle, might I borrow yours?” he asked.

“Of course,” D’Artagnan replied. He did not really want Athos to go off riding alone but he understood the man’s need to get a little distance so he could sort himself out. “Just… don’t go too far, alright?”

“I shall not make you worry overmuch, lad, you have my word,” Athos promised. Getting to his feet, he retrieved the other man’s saddle and went to get his horse. D’Artagnan watched him from the barn until he rode off then went to find their companions.

He found Aramis and Porthos in the kitchen preparing a light snack. He watched them from the doorway, waiting until they noticed him before walking in. He sat down at the table across from them and tried to decide what to say. In the end, he decided to simply tell them outright. 

“Something wrong, Whelp?” Porthos asked. “You’re awful quiet today.”

“Athos saw you,” he said evenly. He kept any note of censure from his voice, stating only the fact of the matter. It was not his place to judge in this regard and, in truth, he did not think the two had done anything wrong. They may have acted carelessly but he knew there had been no malicious intent. 

Aramis actually thought his heart might stop for a moment. He felt the blood drain from his face and reached instinctively for Porthos’ hand. He glanced wildly about the room as if expecting to spot Athos in some corner of it. When he did not, his eyes lit back on D’Artagnan full of frantic worry.

“He is not angry,” he promised them. “He is… confused. By his reaction to it as much as anything else, I think.”

“Where…”

“He went for a ride. He promised he would not go far.”

“I’ll go after him,” Porthos offered.

“I do not think that would be wise,” D’Artagnan told him. “Give him some time to come to grips with it. I think he is just now realizing what it might mean to have this thing between the three of you.”

“Oh God,” Aramis gasped, feeling like they had betrayed Athos in some way.

“Stop, Aramis,” D’Artagnan told him. “You did nothing wrong, other than perhaps use poor judgment in not telling Athos of your intent beforehand rather than allow him to discover you as he did.”

“We betrayed him,” Porthos said, disgusted with himself for once again hurting one of his brothers.

“You did nothing of the sort. Athos will be fine. He will be back soon and then… then we can all talk. Just… I would highly recommend that you both be here waiting for him upon his return. For him to return and find anything else, would hurt him even more.”

“We will wait for him here,” Porthos agreed for the two of them. 

D’Artagnan stood up to leave then. He clasped both their shoulders, letting them know that he was with them as well then he went back out to the barn to await Athos return. 

Aramis and Porthos moved to the main room and sat down in front of the fire. Porthos had not relinquished his grip on Aramis’ hand and the other man was grateful. Even though the Whelp said otherwise, they both felt as though they had acted dishonorably toward Athos. They only hoped they could undo any damage they may have inadvertently done. The last thing they wanted was for Athos to go back to trying to walk away for the sake of everyone else.


	24. Chapter 24

Part 24

Athos had started away from the stable at a brisk trot. He had barely gotten out of site of the barn before realizing that he could not maintain such a pace and slowed his horse to an easy walk instead. It felt good to be in the saddle again, even though it made the soreness of his back and shoulder reawaken. Needing to think, he let his horse lead him where it would, trusting it not too venture too far from the familiarity of the stables and its companions, just as he would never willingly roam too far from his own.

As Athos rode, he cast his mind back to what he had witnessed in the library. He felt a moment of embarrassment at his reaction. It had only been a kiss, albeit a very _heated_ kiss and, as D’Artagnan had so rightly pointed out, something that he had been hoping for. It should not have hurt but… it had. It had hurt as badly as the scourge Porthos had wielded though the wound did not show. 

Now Athos was left wondering if this thing between them was truly possible at all. Would he be able to stand by and watch Aramis give himself to another? In his heart, Athos knew the answer was yes. He could no more deny Aramis something he genuinely wanted than he could stop himself from breathing. It would be difficult, but he could and would endure it for his brothers. And if he were lucky enough for Aramis to decide he wanted him too, well then he would take what he was offered and be grateful for it. 

At least with Porthos there, Athos would no longer have to worry about pushing Aramis into something he was not yet ready for. He knew that Porthos would never allow him to do anything that might harm Aramis. That fact alone was worth any… discomfort… he might feel at seeing the two of them together. Perhaps in time, when his own place in Aramis’ life was more secure, the sharp sting of it would dull and he would be able to appreciate the beauty that Aramis and Porthos together created. Sealing that hope down deep in his heart, Athos turned his horse back toward the house. He needed to speak with his friends and see what decision, if any, Aramis had come to yet. 

Athos was not surprised to find D’Artagnan waiting for him outside the barn when he rode up. He smiled at the younger man as he carefully dismounted, waving away the concerned frown he received as his slower than normal movements.

“I am fine,” Athos told him. “A bit sore is all. The ride did more good for my equilibrium than my healing wounds.”

“I can imagine. You seem better.”

“I am. I… have come to grips with a few things. I must thank you again for all that you have done. You have shouldered so much of the burden in this.”

“I do not need your thanks, but you are welcome just the same,” D’Artagnan told him. He was glad that Athos was calmer than when he had let, but he seemed almost too calm and he was starting to worry about what conclusions that man might have come to. “I’ll take care of your horse and join you back at the house.”

“Thanks again, lad,” Athos smiled, though it did not quite reach his eyes. He clapped the other man on the shoulder then began walking back toward the house. He knew that Aramis and Porthos would be waiting for him and steeled himself for the conversation to come. Whatever happened, he vowed to be strong for his brothers and do what was best for them.

When he entered the main room it was to find Aramis and Porthos sitting side by side on the divan in front of the fireplace. They were holding hands and looked up sharply when he walked into the room. He could see the worry and guilt etched on their faces and held up his hands. “Peace, brothers,” he said softly, unable to deny his desire to soothe their distress.

Aramis opened his mouth to speak but Athos cut him off, needing to have his say while he still felt that he could. “I know that D’Artagnan told you that I saw you in the library together. I am sorry for walking in on you. It was not my intent to spy on you in such a manner. However, it now leads me to ask if you, Aramis, have come to a decision about what it is you wish for?”

Aramis looked at Athos and saw both the resignation in his eyes as well as the small spark of hope that could not be completely hidden. Holding tightly to Porthos’ hand, he spoke. “While I can make no promises of success, I know that I would like, very much, to attempt to have a relationship.”

“With Porthos?” Athos promptd.

“With both of you,” Aramis replied softly then added, “if you would still have me.”

Athos looked at the pair of them for long moments then simply nodded, unable to do more lest the thin control he still had on his emotions break entirely. He did not want them to see how terribly unsure he suddenly was, not wanting them to mistake it for rejection of some sort.

Porthos could see how hard Athos was struggling and wished he could do something to calm the other man. He squeezed Aramis’ hand, hoping to encourage him to go to Athos. It seemed to work for Aramis squeezed back then let go of Porthos’ hand and stood. He approached Athos cautiously then slowly took him into an embrace. He was relieved when Athos returned the gesture, although the hesitation in it nearly broke his heart. 

D’Artagnan watched from the doorway, taking in the sight of the two men embracing. He could tell that something was still not right with Athos but held his tongue. He would try to get him to speak of it later when they were alone. For now, he settled for entering the room and breaking the rather awkward plateau. 

Dinner was a rather quiet affair. While D’Artagnan had cooked for them again, he had teased them that it would someone else’s turn tomorrow earning him three groans of dismay. Afterwards, he found a chess set and set it up. He played Athos while Aramis and Porthos both lounged by the fire pretending to read while watching their leader as surreptitiously as possible. When the younger man won two games in a row, he knew Athos was still greatly troubled about something. 

“I am sorry, lad,” Athos said after his second loss. He pushed back from the table and stood. “My mind appears to be elsewhere tonight. Forgive me. I think I shall retire early. The ride today took more out of me than I thought it would. Goodnight, gentlemen.” With that, Athos turned and headed toward the room he shared with D’Artagnan. 

Aramis watched him go then set his book down and stood, intent on following him. As he passed the table, D’Artagnan reached out and grabbed his arm. “Give him tonight,” he said with a shake of his head. “If he is still troubled come the morning, we shall sit down and talk, all of us.”

“I did not mean…” Aramis trailed of brokenly

“You did nothing wrong,” D’Artagnan told him yet again. “Athos is just… coming to grips with the reality of what is being proposed. I do not think he realized what seeing you in the arms of another man, even Porthos, might do to him.”

“If this is going to hurt him…” Porthos began.

“Give him time,” the younger man advised again. “He is still dealing with, well, everything else that has happened. Even Athos can only carry so much before it drives him to his knees. And before you say it, that is what he has us for, to keep him from falling too harshly and to help him back up again.”

D’Artagnan waited a bit, busying himself with putting away the chess board, before retiring to bed as well. He wanted to check on Athos and see if the man wanted to talk about whatever was still upsetting him. When he entered their room, he found Athos lying in bed on his side, seemingly waiting for him. Wasting no time, he stripped down his small clothes and joined Athos in the bed.

As soon as D’Artagnan was settled under their blanket, Athos pulled the younger man tightly against him, his front to the other’s back. He felt him stiffen in surprise, then relax into his embrace, and Athos buried his face into the back of D’Artagnan’s neck, closing his eyes in gratitude at the boy’s understanding.

“What is it you need?” he whispered, his voice barely audible even in the stillness of the room. He could feel Athos pressed all along his back and the heat and weight of him was a comfort. 

“Just this,” Athos whispered, the words ghosting over D’Artagnan’s neck.

D’Artagnan simply nodded. He entwined his fingers with those of the hand Athos had wrapped around his middle, returning the embrace as much as he could. He considered rolling over to face Athos so that he could hold him properly but was afraid such a move might make Athos withdraw. 

Minutes passed and neither man moved. Finally, Athos let out a shuddering breath and lifted his head from D’Artagnan’s shoulder. “I am sorry,” he apologized.

“For what?” 

“My behavior has been beyond inappropriate yet you bear it with good grace. Thank you again, my dear friend, for tolerating such horrid lapses from me.”

“Stop it,” D’Artagnan said, the bite in his words making it clear he meant them. “Comforting you is neither a hardship nor inappropriate and you may seek it out whenever you feel the need or desire. Now let us try to rest. We can talk on this in the morning when you are feeling stronger.” 

With D’Artagnan held so close, Athos slept soundly that night and without dreams.

Back in the main room, Porthos and Aramis were once again side by side on the divan. Both were worried about Athos. Aramis wanted so badly to go to him but he held back, determined to give D’Artagnan the time he had asked for and praying the young man could do something to help.

“Don’t worry, love,” Porthos tried to reassure him. “I’ll find a way to fix this if he gets some fool notion about leaving us in his head again. We’ll hunt him down and tie him to the fuckin’ bed if he tries. We’ll get the Whelp to help.”

Aramis chuckled softly at Porthos’ words but the sound was hollow. Athos had martyrdom down to an art form. If he truly thought that stepping aside was the best thing to do then he doubted if anything he or Porthos said would make much of a difference. 

They sat by the fire for a while longer, simply letting each other’s presence bring them what peace it could. When they retired for the night, it was to a restless sleep filled with dreams of searching for something that could never be found.

When Porthos awoke it was to the feel of Aramis snugged up tight beside him. He had his head resting on Porthos’ shoulder and one leg thrown over Porthos’ own. He smiled up at the ceiling, enjoying the feeling of rightness that waking up this way evoked. 

That sense of rightness quickly morphed into something else entirely when Aramis shifted his leg causing his knee to brush against the erection Porthos had not even realized he had. He gasped aloud at the almost violent shock of arousal that slammed through him and tightened his grip around Aramis’ shoulders without conscious thought. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, hoping that Aramis would remain asleep and thus blissfully ignorant of Porthos’ current condition. 

That, however, was not to be. Aramis had been lazily dozing in Porthos’ embrace, enjoying the feelings of safety and protection it always brought him when he felt Porthos go tense. Cracking his eyes open, Aramis regarded his friend and frowned.

“What’s wrong?” Aramis asked sleepily.

Porthos felt his face heat at Aramis’ question and was never more happy for his darker coloring than he was right then. “Nothin’,” he said, hoping for once that Aramis would leave well enough alone. 

“Porthos?” Aramis queried, frowning. He knew something was wrong. His friend was as tense as steel next to him and acted like he was afraid to even breath. Aramis shifted to try to get a better look at him and his knee brushed against Porthos’ groin again. 

Porthos could not hold back his moan when Aramis’ knee brushed his swollen groin for a second time. He turned his face away, not wanting Aramis to see the desire in his eyes and afraid to see any censure in the other man’s. 

“Oh, Porthos,” Aramis sighed. He reached up and turned the other’s face back towards his own. “This is not exactly the first time we have woken in such a way, my friend.”

“Different now though, in’nit?” Porthos replied. He looked down at Aramis’ face and found nothing but understanding and love reflected back at him. Still, he was wary of taking advantage of the other man. He knew first-hand how much Aramis liked to please, especially those he cared for most.

“Yes,” he agreed. “But while the situation may be different you, my dear friend, are not. You would never take advantage of me in such a way and we both know it.”

Just down the hall, D’Artagnan lay awake next to Athos waiting for him to stir. He had been awake for some time but did not want to risk disturbing the other man by getting out of bed. He knew Athos needed the rest as his body was still healing, not to mention the emotional upheaval of the past few days. 

Finally, he felt Athos begin to rouse. He waited patiently, letting the man come awake in his own time, not wanting to startle him. He knew Athos was completely awake when he felt the arm around his middle tense and a sharp puff of air against the back of his neck.

“Good morning,” D’Artagnan said softly. He kept his fingers laced with Athos’ own, refusing to allow the man to pull away from him. He hoped it would somehow let him know that he did not mind this closeness between them.

“Good morning,” Athos replied. He relaxed slightly though he was still tense then blew out a breath. “I am sorry, D’Artagnan. I have once again imposed upon your good nature.”

“You have done nothing of the sort,” the other man told him. “As I said last night, you may seek comfort from me whenever you have want or need of it. I shall never deny you, Athos. Surely you must know this by now.”

“I do,” Athos replied, his voice at once thick with emotion. “Thank you. Last night would not have been easy for me without you here.”

“You are welcome. Are you feeling better?”

“A bit,” Athos told him. “Steadier at any rate.”

“Good. I’m sure Aramis and Porthos will be glad to hear it as well. They are probably beside themselves with worry by now.”

“We’d best go find them then.”

“One thing.” D’Artagnan stopped him with a hand on his arm before he could leave. “Do you want to talk about it before you see them, that is? I know it had to be hard for you to see them like that.”

“I… It was the surprise of it more than anything,” Athos admitted. “I had not been expecting…”

“Still,” D’Artagnan said, “the reality of a thing is often times very different from what we imagine it to be.”

“Just so,” Athos replied with a tilt of his head.


	25. Chapter 25

Part 25

Athos paused outside the main room, taking a moment to ensure his emotions were under control. He knew the coming conversation would be a trying one and that there was a fair chance the outcome would be less than desirable. He would need to remain calm if they were to try to work through all of this.

Taking a breath, he entered the room and found Aramis and Porthos sitting together at the long table, hands clasped and heads bent low in conversation. They looked up when he entered and he offered them a small smile before sitting down opposite them. He saw Aramis frown at the continued distance between them and tried to explain. “Forgive me. It is not that I do not wish to be close to you, but it is easier for me to talk of this if I can see your faces.”

When both men visibly relaxed, Athos decided to forge ahead. “I must apologize for my reaction yesterday. I did not mean to act the scandalized maiden nor did I mean to make you worry. I was… I was… startled more than anything. I have rarely been caught so flat-footed.”

“We’re sorry…” Aramis began but Athos cut him off.

“None of that. You have nothing to apologize for. You are free to express your feelings for each other in any manner you wish.”

“Not if it hurts you,” Porthos argued.

“I believe we have had this conversation already, brother,” Athos replied smoothly. “Now, I must ask you, Aramis, if you have come to any further conclusions in regards to what we have been speaking of since our arrival.”

Aramis swallowed thickly and looked back and forth between Athos and Porthos. “I know that I desire Porthos as I desire you.” He squeezed Porthos’ hand tightly and looked at Athos with worry-filled eyes. “And I know that I… I love him… as I do you.” The last was said in barely a whisper, 

Aramis had expected any number of reactions from the other man, from hurt to anger to rejection. What he had no expected was for Athos to simply nod and say “Good.” 

The shock was easy to see on Aramis’ face and Athos tried to put his feelings on the matter into words to help him understand. “He loves you very much,” he explained. “And a one-sided love, it is a very painful thing to endure. I am glad you feel the same for him as he does for you.”

“Athos…”

“Did we not already acknowledge that you have loved him for far longer than you have even thought of loving me? I do not begrudge you this. Either of you. You deserve to be happy and I will do everything in my power to see to it.”

With his free hand, Porthos reached toward Athos, desperate to reconnect with him in some way. He saw the hesitation in Athos’ eyes and it tore at him. Slowly, however, Athos reached forward and took Porthos’ hand in his own. And from the doorway, D’Artagnan watched, unable to keep the hopeful smile from his lips.

After sharing a breakfast that D’Artagnan had been cajoled into preparing for them, Aramis announced that it was time for Athos’ stitches to come out. As Aramis went to gather the necessary items, Porthos stood. He did not want to see the ruination he had made of Athos’ back. Not again. “I’ll just go and check on the horses,” he muttered as he turned to leave.

A single look from Athos, however, had D’Artagnan moving in front of the door, effectively cutting off Porthos’ exit. He looked at the boy then back over at Athos, unsure what it was they wanted of him.

“I would have you stay,” Athos said as he held out his hand to Porthos.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Porthos returned to Athos side, taking his hand and holding it until Aramis returned. He laid out his kit on the table along with bandages, ointment and fresh water. Together, Aramis and Porthos carefully removed Athos’ shirt then the bandages beneath. Porthos could not help but wince at the sight but did not try to leave again. Taking Athos’ hand, he sat beside him as Aramis begins the slow process of removing the numerous stitches.

It was slow going with Aramis being careful not to tug too hard. Athos had endured enough pain, in his opinion, and he did not want to be the cause of any more. Once they were finally removed, his back was no longer covered in thick, black thread but angry red lines instead. Aramis knew it would be months still before they finally faded and they were able to see the end result. For now, he spread a thin layer of salve over them and covered them in bandages once more, more to keep Athos’ shirt from chafing against them than anything else at this point. 

“Would you mind if we sat by the fire?” Aramis asked once Athos’ back had been seen to. He wanted to be closer to the other two men if they were going to continue their discussion.

“Of course,” Athos agreed.

“Would you prefer if I gave you some privacy?” D’Artagnan asked, not wanting to intrude on something so personal any more than he already had.

“No,” Athos said at once, then felt himself blush and look away. He had allowed himself to lean so heavily on the younger man since this whole trial began and was unsure if he could face it without his steadying presence.

“Then I shall stay,” D’Artagnan replied. He sat down in the chair across from the divan in an attempt to both be there for Athos yet provide at least some measure of distance for Aramis and Porthos. 

“We do not mind, D’Artagnan,” Aramis assured him. “And there is no shame in finding strength in a brother, Athos. Has Porthos not provided the same for me whenever I have needed it?”

“He has,” Athos relented, letting Aramis’ words take some of the sting out of the neediness he felt. Once the other two were settled, with Porthos on the far end and Aramis between then, Athos turned a bit to face them, still wanting to be able to see their faces so that he might gauge their reactions. 

“You have said that you love us both,” Athos began, picking the conversation up where it had been left off. “That you are *in love* with us both. Are you still of a mind to try this thing between us all? I will understand… we both will… if it is asking too much of you.”

“I want it,” Aramis confirmed. “I want to try. The thought of losing either of you… I cannot bear it. This is truly the best solution all round, if you both are still amenable.”

“I give you my word, Aramis,” Porthos said, “that I will take things as slowly as you need me to. And you as well, Athos. You have been through hell, my friend, and at my hands no less. I will do whatever it takes to earn your trust in this.” 

Porthos could see that his words had helped to ease some of the tension in Athos but the man was still on edge. Hoping to try to bridge the gap between them a little more, he reached out and cupped Athos’ jaw tenderly. “I would like to share a kiss with you, if I may.”

Athos cast a nervous glance at D’Artagnan and felt himself blush again. He had not blushed this much since he was a boy first learning about such things. D’Artagnan’s easy smile, however, set him at ease yet again. 

“You worry too much, my friend,” he told him. “I am fairly certain a kiss between my brothers is not going to overly shock me at this point.”

All three of them laughed softly at the younger man’s words and more of their tension bled away. They were still *them* after all. They were still brothers no matter what else. Athos looked back at Porthos then and nodded his consent. Then Porthos was leaning across Aramis and cupping Athos’ face with both his hands. He pulled him gently forward a bit so that when they met it was over Aramis’ lap, the three of them sharing in the kiss together as much as possible. 

Porthos kept the kiss gentle, remembering that he had no idea how much experience Athos had with other men. He knew that all of the kisses he had shared with Aramis thus far had been nigh unto chaste. He was concentrating so hard on holding himself back that he did not realize at first that Athos had started to tremble. As soon as he did, Porthos pulled back, his brow knitting in worry.

Athos sat back against the arm of the divan, putting a few precious inches between himself and the others. He struggled to get himself back under control, looking resolutely down at the seat of the divan rather than his friends. 

“Athos,” D’Artagnan called softly, hoping to break the man out of whatever fear had suddenly gripped him. “It is only Porthos. You are safe, brother.” When those words failed to calm him, D’Artagnan decided on a different tract. “I am here, Athos. And as I promised you before, I will not allow you to be harmed in such a way. Not again. Trust in me if you can trust in nothing else right now.”

“We put too much on your shoulders, my friend,” Athos said, though his heart had started to calm and he could once again bring himself to look at his brothers.

“It is no more than any of you would be willing to bear for me. The past is hard to escape. Aramis and Porthos know this intimately. They will not hold your struggle against you, nor will they begrudge you whatever means you need to deal with it.”

“I am sorry,” Porthos said. “I did not mean to push you into something you were not ready for.”

“It is not your fault,” Athos assured him. “Thought I did warn you that I would need your patience.”

“And you shall have it,” Porthos promised then glanced at Aramis. “You both will.”

“You are too good to us,” Aramis whispered and stroked his hand along Porthos’ face.

Porthos opened his mouth to reply and was surprised when D’Artagnan beat him to it. “Such a thing is not possible,” he said. 

“The Whelp is getting wise on us,” Porthos teased.

“Whelp no more, I think,” Athos replied, giving D’Artagnan a knowing look before returning his attention to the others.

“Athos,” Porthos began, then hesitated. “I need to ask some things of you, if I may.”

“Alright,” Athos replied with a touch of wariness. 

Porthos sighed. This was never an easy conversation to have as men seldom liked to admit to a lack of knowledge, especially in bedroom pursuits. Still, Porthos had to know just how much, if any, experience Athos had with such things.

“We all know that Aramis has never had a male lover. Other than… that time… the kisses and touches we have shared with him are his sole experiences. In the Court, things were different. It was not so frowned upon for men to lie together. People were more interested in where their next meal was coming from to be worried about that sort of thing.”

“So you have… lain with men… before?” Athos asked.

“Yes,” Porthos replied. “It was some time ago, before I left the Court, but I understand what such a relationship can entail. What I do not know, is how much experience *you* have with such things.”

Athos hesitated then found himself stealing a glance at D’Artagnan once more only to find the younger man shaking his head fondly. “I am not the innocent you all seem to take me for,” he told them. “While it is not my preference, I am not… unfamiliar with such things. Now stop worrying about shocking me and speak freely.”

Athos eyes narrowed as he took in D’Artagnan’s words about preferences and familiarity. Immediately, his mind starting conjuring up all the ways the younger man could have come to such knowledge while not enjoying the discovery.

D’Artagnan saw the exact moment when Athos mistook his words and groaned. “It was not what you are thinking,” he said quickly. “I was willing. More than, in truth. It just… while not unpleasant, was not fulfilling either. If you wish to know more later, I will tell you. If for no other reason than to ease your minds, but for now, let us concentrate on the three of you.”

“Very well,” Athos relented. “But we will be speaking of this tonight. I will know for certain that you were not harmed and if I find otherwise…”

“I will give you his name and let you carve out his heart, I promise you,” D’Artagnan said. 

Appeased for the time being, Athos turned his attention back to Porthos and Aramis. He did not want to talk about his past dalliances with other men, few though they had been. None of them had been overly satisfying, at least not to him and it left a feeling of inadequacy that he was reluctant to share. 

“It is alright,” Aramis coaxed, understanding Athos’ hesitation. His own past with such things was something he could barely stand to talk about at times. While he did not think Athos had suffered such trauma, it was clear that whatever his experiences were, they were not altogether pleasant ones.

“I was not hurt,” Athos told them before they could start to worry. Swallowing thickly, he forced himself to simply tell them and get it over with. “I… my experiences with such things… they are… limited. I have shared kisses and touches. I have… have had a man’s mouth on me once. I have… taken a man into… into my… my mouth… but…”

“But?” Porthos asked when Athos trailed off.

“I did not much care for the act,” he admitted, looking down again. “It… he was… overly rough. I find I… I do not like to be… to be choked as such.”

And just like that, Porthos was back in the church ruins. In his mind, he saw Athos on his knees, his head held back by Porthos’ fist in his hair as Porthos forced his own musket in and out of his mouth, grinning whenever he shoved it deep enough to choke him.

With a groan, Porthos came back to himself to find D’Artagnan crouched in front of him and Aramis and Athos on either side of him. He looked up at Athos and felt pain lance through him as if he’d been shot and it took all of his will not to simply curl in on himself.

“Shhh…” Aramis soothed as he rubbed his back. “Come back to us now. It is over and we are safe and it was not you. Come back to us here where you belong.”

“I’m so sorry,” Porthos whispered. “God, how can you even…”

“Stop!” Athos said sternly. “It was not you. You did not hurt me and I will not sit here and listen to you apologize for the acts of another.” 

It took some time but eventually they were able to retake their places with Athos and Porthos at either end of the divan and Aramis in the middle. D’Artagnan returned to his chair, taking up his position as unofficial sentinel and waited.

There was not much more for Athos to tell. That was as far as he had ever gone with another man. Porthos realized then that Athos was nearly as much of a virgin in this regard as Aramis was, though he probably had a bit better understanding of what all such a relationship normally entailed. Porthos was about to say as much when an unexpected groan from D’Artagnan stopped him.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Yes,” he huffed. “I just came to the realization that *I* have more experience than Athos does in this regard. I do not believe I am looking forward to some of our future conversations quite so eagerly now.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part gets a bit darker as Aramis talks about what happened to him and Porthos' subconscious bites him on the ass...

Part 26

“I suppose,” Aramis began, “that an explanation of exactly what happened to me is in order.” 

“That is not necessary,” Athos told him, leaning forward in alarm. He had seen just how badly Aramis’ previous encounter still affected the man. He did not want him to put himself through the hell of reliving it for their sakes.

“On the contrary,” Aramis argued softly. “I believe it is. After all, it has been our main stumbling block so far, has it not? If not for my inability to lay my past to rest, things between us would already be much different.”

“That does not mean you need to make us privy to those horrors. Not unless you feel it will help you in some way.”

“Athos is right,” Porthos said, taking Aramis’ hand and threading their fingers together. “Unless you feel speaking of this will somehow help, then I would not have you do it. If it is simply so that they have a better understanding of things then I can speak with them about it later.”

“Ever my protector,” Aramis smiled at him. “But we both know that I shall never be past this if I cannot even bring myself to speak of it with those I love and trust above all others. I know the three of you will guard my secrets as you would your own and… and will not think me less of a man after sharing them.”

“There is nothing you could share with us that would ever make us think you less a man,” Athos promised.

“Agreed,” D’Artagnan said, his voice as soft and serious as that of the others.

Holding Porthos’ hand tightly, Aramis took a deep breath and began. “As I said before, it was about two years ago. We had all been out drinking and I had left the tavern early in search of… other pastimes. Apparently, I had imbibed a bit more than I had thought and turned down a wrong alleyway. When I realized it was a dead end, I turned around to make my way back out…”

Aramis had cursed when he found his way blocked by a wall. He had thought this was the same short cut he had taken before but it obviously was not. Turning around, he meant to return to the street when he found his way blocked. 

“Excuse me,” he said, nodding slightly as he went to move past the rather large man standing half way between the end of the alley and the street. He knew something was wrong as he brushed past the man, but his wine dulled reflexes were too slow. Before he could react, the man had slammed him face first into the alley wall.

“Make a sound an’ I’ll slit your throat and fuck you while you bleed out,” the man hissed into his ear as he pressed a sharp blade against Aramis’ ribs. 

Aramis froze, his whole body going rigid. He could feel the man’s body pinning him in place, the hard line of his arousal digging into his hip letting him know exactly how he expected this encounter to play out. He could feel the man’s rank breath on his neck and it made him want to wretch. 

“Ah ah ah,” the man chided when he felt Aramis tense in preparation of trying to shove him off. He dug the blade deeper into his side, hard enough to pierce his doublet and sink into the tender flesh beneath. “Your virtue worth your life, is it?”

Aramis hissed at the feel of the knife sinking into his side. The wound was shallow but the point had been made. Fight and he would find it buried in his ribs. For one horrible moment, he considered fighting regardless, knowing it would mean his death. Then he thought of Porthos and how hurt his friend would be. That alone was enough to stay Aramis’ hand. 

He nearly wretched again when he felt the beast’s mouth on his neck, sucking and biting. His free hand had slipped inside his shirt and was pawing at him, twisting and pinching his nipple brutally in an effort to make him cry out. Aramis clamped his mouth shut, refusing to give the bastard the satisfaction. 

He could not stop himself, though, when teeth sank into his neck hard enough to draw blood. The feel of the man laughing at his pain made humiliation roil in his gut and his eyes tear though he refused to allow them to fall. 

Suddenly, a loud noise from the mouth of the alley startled both of them. He felt the blade jerk out of his side and Aramis reacted with every ounce of training he had. Slamming his head back into his attacker’s face, he stunned the man, then whirled around and grabbed the arm holding the blade. Before the man could even register the move, Aramis had twisted his arm around and driven his own blade deep into his chest. 

Somehow he managed to stumble his way to Porthos’ lodgings. His face was a mess of scrapes and bruises from where he had been slammed him into the wall, his side was bleeding sluggishly, and his neck still oozed blood from where he had been bitten. 

Aramis had been lucky that Porthos had been in and not still at the tavern with Athos as he all but collapsed when his friend opened the door. As it was, Porthos had to tend to his wounds as Aramis was in no fit state to do so himself or even guide Porthos through it. 

It had taken a bit of creative storytelling on Porthos’ part to get Aramis out of duty for the remainder of the week. By then, he was at least able to function in his duties as a Musketeer. The nights, however, were another story. 

“I relied almost exclusively on Porthos for months,” Aramis told them. “He saw me through the worst of the nightmares and helped me to feel safe again. I would not be sitting here today if not for his never ending patience and care.” 

“I knew something had happened,” Athos admitted when Aramis had finished his tale. “I could tell, of course. I knew Porthos had lied to the Captain but I trusted you both. And I knew you would come to me if you needed me. I wish… I wish I could have been there for you as well.”

“So do I,” Aramis admitted. “But some days, it was all I could do to allow Porthos close and he wears his emotions for all to see. I could not have let you, my friend. Not then.”

“I know,” Athos said, nodding his understanding. “I am just glad that someone was able to be there for you.”

By the time Aramis had finished his tale, they were all drained, even D’Artagnan. They retired early that evening, each of them wanting to think about all that he had learned from the others. When Athos entered the room he shared with D’Artagnan, he found the younger man sitting on the bed waiting for him.

“I thought you might decide to spend this night with the others,” he offered. 

“No,” Athos shook his head as he began undressing. “After everything, I believe Aramis would benefit from Porthos’ comfort tonight.”

“Are you purposely holding yourself back from sharing their bed or it something else?” D’Artagnan asked directly. He knew he risked Athos’ ire with such a blunt approach but the man was maddening at times.

Athos stared at his companion for a moment. He threw his shirt over the back of a chair and sat down on the bed beside him. “I… I will admit I am a bit… shall we say… intimidated… by the prospect of sharing their bed,” he admitted. 

“You have shared a bed with them in the past,” D’Artagnan reasoned. “And have suffered no ill for it. I know you do not think they would take advantage. What is it that holds you back?”

“I did not dream last night,” Athos whispered. “At least, not that I remember. Not that was violent enough to wake either of us. I do not want to go to their bed and have my nightmares return. I would not add to Porthos’ burden in such a way.”

D’Artagnan put his arm around Athos’ shoulders and pulled him in close. “I understand. But you should at least speak to them of this. Let them know that it is not *them* that holds you back. They will take you on whatever terms you need, Athos. You have but to tell them.”

Down the hall, Aramis and Porthos were preparing for bed as well. “I am worried,” Aramis said as he stripped down and waited for Porthos to climb into bed. 

“I am as well,” Porthos agreed. He slid into bed and against the wall then held up the blanket for Aramis to slide in next to him. “It is not like we have not shared close quarters before. His reluctance makes me think he does not trust us. Or me at any rate.”

“Do not be stupid,” Aramis told him. “Athos trusts us. Both of us. But I do not know what holds him back.”

“Neither do I. Perhaps the Whelp can find the source of it. I am sure he is working on it even now.”

“Hmm… perhaps,” Aramis said softly.

“Aramis?”

Aramis hesitated, then decided to simply voice his concerns and let Porthos make of them what he will. “Do you not worry?”

“About?” Porthos prompted, confused. He did not think they were still speaking of Athos’ reluctance to join their bed.

“About the Whelp,” Aramis admitted.

“Aramis…”

“I am being foolish, I know,” Aramis chided himself. “The boy has become his dearest friend. I know it does not mean…”

“Aramis, stop. Is this because of what I said? What that devil said?”

“No,” Aramis denied vehemently then looked away. “Not really. I know that was only the demon trying to drive us apart but part of me can’t help but… wonder.”

“If Athos had feelings for the boy, he would say so,” Porthos said.

“Athos does not always realize what is in front of his face until it bites him on the bloody nose,” Aramis muttered.

“You are truly worried about this?” Porthos asked.

“Yes. No. I have no idea,” Aramis said his confusion and distress evident. “I am worried overall and that worry is taking strange shapes in my mind.”

“Then come here and let me see if I can take your mind off of such things for a little while.” With that, Porthos pulled Aramis into his arms and kissed him slowly. He was careful to let Aramis set the pace, opening his mouth to the kiss only when Aramis brushed his tongue over his lips. 

As soon as Aramis felt Porthos’ lips on his, his entire body relaxed then tensed as desire shot through him. He could feel himself hardening and moaned softly as he stroked his tongue over Porthos lips and then into his mouth. He had not responded so quickly to another’s touch since he was a boy and it made him heady with need. 

He pushed his body flush against Porthos’ own, feeling an answering hardness digging into his hip. He let his hands roam over Porthos’ broad shoulders and back, loving the feel of the other man’s skin under his hands. He was intimately aware of almost every scar that decorated the man and his hands touched them reverently. 

Porthos gave a soft moan of his own and sucked on Aramis’ tongue as the man stroked his hands down his back. He was hard as steel in his small clothes and wanted desperately to snake a hand between them and pull himself out. But he was determined to let Aramis set the pace and if he wanted nothing more than simply kisses and touches then that is what he would get. 

Finally, Aramis pulled back panting. He laid his forehead against Porthos as he tried to catch his breath. He was gratified to see that Porthos was struggling for control just as much as he was. “I did not think such simple kisses could have me so undone,” he said when he could speak again.

“You and I both,” Porthos agreed with a chuckle. “I am so hard I hurt.”

“Do you wish me to…”

“No,” Porthos said. “You do not wish to, at least not yet, so I do not want you to.”

“I do not mean to be a tease.”

“You have not been,” Porthos told him. “I gave you my word that we would do this as you needed to. It is not your fault that your kisses are enough to drive a man to beg. Now, let me just hold you while we both calm down then we can try to get some sleep.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Porthos tossed his head from side to side, trying to break the grip of the dream. He knew it was a dream. He often did in his worst nightmares, but he was powerless to make himself wake from it. Against his will he found himself back in the ruined church, once more a prisoner inside his own body. Athos hung, limp and bleeding, by his wrists while Aramis alternated between begging him to stop and threatening to kill him if he did not. 

Porthos threw down the bloodied scourge and turned to look at Aramis. He could see the fear on the man’s tear-streaked face and reveled in it. He let his hand grip the bulge in his breeches, making sure the bound man saw it and understood what was to come. He laughed when Aramis began to struggle violently against his bonds then turned his attention back to Athos’ limp body.

He moved up behind him and pressed himself against Athos’ bloody back. He felt the man try to move away and put his arms around him, pulling him back so he could rub himself against him. “That’s it,” Porthos whispered into his ear. “Sing for me. You know how much I love to hear it.”

Porthos worked one of his hands between them, rubbing it over Athos’ back, slicking it with his blood. He brought it to Athos’ face and grinned when the man flinched from it. With his other hand, he grabbed Athos by the hair and yanked his head back then shoved his blood covered fingers into his mouth, filling Athos’ mouth with the taste of his own blood. 

“I’m going to fuck you now,” Porthos told him as he shoved his fingers in deep enough to make Athos gag around them. “And afterward, if you’re still alive, I’ll shove my cock right down your throat as well. Do you think little priest will still want you then?”

Letting go of him, Porthos stepped back and unlaced his breeches. Once his own were taken care of, he went to work on Athos’, pulling them down roughly, heedless of the additional strain he put on the man’s arms. Once Athos was completely bare, he ran his hand over his back, covering it in blood once more, before using it to slick his own flesh.

Holding Athos’ hips in a bruising grip, Porthos thrust up hard, burying himself inside the man and wrenching a desperate scream from him. The sound of Athos’ wounded scream was enough to finally jar Porthos from his nightmare. 

“No!” he screamed as he jolted awake, the memory of the horrific nightmare still fresh in his mind. Before Aramis could even register what was happening, Porthos was scrambling over him and out of the bed before falling to his knees and being violently sick.

Athos and D’Artagnan both awoke at the sound of Porthos’ scream. They rushed from the room and found him on the floor a short distance from the bed. Aramis was beside him, trying to calm him and looked up at them helplessly when they entered the room. 

Athos knelt down on the other side of Porthos and put his arm around him. Porthos turned his head to see who was there and sobbed when he saw it was Athos. Athos merely tightened his grip and pulled him closer until he was all but holding him. 

D’Artagnan moved to the other side of Aramis and sank down beside him. “What happened?” he asked softly, not wanting to distress Porthos any more than he already was.

“I don’t know,” Aramis said. “Nightmare, I would gather. He just woke up screaming and flew out of the bed.”

“It… it… it was the church,” Porthos stammered. “Bu-bu-but they ne-ne-never came. I… I…”

“Hush, now,” Athos soothed. “It was only a nightmare. That is not the way it happened. I am here and alive and safe.”

“I’m so sorry,” Porthos gasped.

“What did I tell you about apologizing for deeds that were not your own?” Athos admonished gently. “Twas but a dream. We shall all suffer them, I fear.”

“Forgive me,” Porthos begged, looking up at Athos. “Please, forgive me for what I did.”

“I do,” Athos told him. He did not want to because he did not feel there was anything to forgive *Porthos* for, but he understood that Porthos needed to hear the words from him if he was even to begin to forgive himself. “I forgave you before we ever left the church.”

At that, Porthos let himself be pulled completely into Athos’ arms and simply rocked while he wept out his grief and pain yet again. Off to the side, D’Artagnan held Aramis in a similar pose, offering his brother what comfort he could as he was forced to helplessly watch his lover’s pain. 

At last, their emotions spent, D’Artagnan and Athos managed to get the other two up from the floor. They led them into their own room and had them lie back down. Once they were safely in bed, he and D’Artagnan dressed and went to clean up the other room.

“He needs to talk about it,” D’Artagnan said as they removed the evidence of Porthos’ distress and made the room habitable once more.

“I know,” Athos agreed, “but he does not wish to.”

“Neither do you. Yet you both must,” he insisted. “It is one of the things you have both been avoiding. He has apologized again and again but he has never really spoken of what he endured. And you have not spoken at all of what you have gone through.”

“I am more worried for them than I am for myself.”

“We are all of us keenly aware of that, my friend. But you must heal yourself if you are to help them to heal. You fear lying with them because you fear what you might dream. Perhaps, if you spoke of all that happened freely, you would be able to put those fears behind you.”

“You know it will not be that easy,” Athos countered.

“I do,” D’Artagnan agreed. “But it will be a start and that is what matters. You know I will be there for you. For as long or as little as you want me. Let *them* be there for you, too.”


	27. Chapter 27

Part 27

D’Artagnan and Athos checked in on the pair they had settled into their bed and found them sleeping. Not wanting to disturb them, they backed out of the room, but left the door open so they could hear if Porthos became trapped in another nightmare. 

Deciding to wait for them in the main hall, they sat down on the divan together. Since it was just the two of them, D’Artagnan saw no need to keep his usual distance. With just Athos, he did not feel he was intruding on something private. Enjoying the simple presence of each other’s company, neither man felt any pressure to speak. After a few minutes, D’Artagnan took Athos’ hand in his own and simply held it, taking pleasure in the steady, solid weight of it in his own.

“You do not always have to distance yourself from us,” Athos said after a while. Having the younger man close to him brought him a measure of peace he had only ever found with his other two companions and, even then, only rarely. 

“I do not want to impose,” he replied with a shrug. “Things such as this are hard enough to speak of amongst those involved. I do not want them to feel the need to censor themselves because I am there.”

“You speak as though you are not involved in this as well.”

“I am,” D’Artagnan admitted and smiled softly. “And I am not.”

“You are more involved than you believe, my young friend,” Athos told him. D’Artagnan merely squeezed his hand in reply and they lapsed back into comfortable silence as they waited for the others to awaken and join them.

Two hours passed before Porthos began to stir. He fought against waking at first, enjoying the novelty of being the one wrapped up in Aramis’ arms for once. When he felt the other man tighten his grip around his shoulders, he knew it was a lost cause. 

“We do not have to get up,” Aramis said as if reading his mind. “I am sure Athos and D’Artagnan can entertain themselves a bit longer.”

“Sure you want to risk it?” Porthos asked, remembering Aramis’ earlier worries about Athos and the lad. 

Aramis sighed. He hated to admit to something as petty as jealousy, especially among the four of them, but he would not lie to Porthos. “Not really,” he admitted. “And before you say it, I know I am being foolish.”

“You’re not,” Porthos said, looking up at Aramis’ face. When he saw a jolt of fear flicker through his eyes, he rushed to explain. “Didn’t mean it like that. I only meant that… well, with everything that’s happened… you got a right to feel a bit… anxious is all. Not that I think there’s anything goin’ on with the boy. Like I said before, Athos would’a said before now if there was. But with him keepin’ his distance and all…” 

Porthos trailed off then, not sure what else to say. He did not believe there was anything going on between Athos and D’Artagnan, but just because there wasn’t anything going on _yet_ didn’t mean that there couldn’t end up being. He knew better than to voice that particular though to Aramis, though. He was struggling as it was with the way Athos continued to hold himself apart from them. He didn’t want to make him worry even more. 

“Thank you,” Aramis said as he leant his head down and kissed Porthos softly. He knew in his heart that he was being ridiculous but his head kept coming up with scenario after scenario for why Athos held himself back. 

Porthos returned the gentle kiss, luxuriating in the feel of Aramis in his arms. They stayed like that for a few minutes, sharing simple kisses, before he forced himself to pull away. “You ready to get up?” he asked. He knew the other two were waiting for them, and he did not want to risk Athos walking in on them again.

“If we must,” Aramis sighed dramatically. 

They found Athos and D’Artagnan sitting side by side on the divan in the main hall when they finally emerged from their room. As soon as they entered, D’Artagnan released Athos’ hand and stood, ready to take up his usual spot. He felt Athos’ eyes on him and knew the other man was silently letting him know that he did not have to move away but he still felt it was for the best. While, as Athos had said, he may be involved, he knew it was only to a certain degree and did not want to overstep himself here.

“Did you get some more sleep?” Athos asked as his friends joined him on the divan. 

“A bit,” Porthos replied. “Thanks for taking care of the room.”

“It was no bother,” Athos assured him. He waited until they were settled. By silent agreement, he and Porthos situated themselves so that Aramis was once more safely ensconced in the middle of them. 

“You two do not need to cosset me so,” Aramis told them, feeling a bit self-conscious. “Of the three of us, I am the one who has suffered the least.”

“I would not say that, love,” Athos replied. “Just because I bore the physical pain does not mean you did not suffer equally if not more so. And I am certain Porthos feels the same.”

“I do,” Porthos agreed.

Silence descended after that as each of them was unsure where to begin. D’Artagnan held his tongue. He felt they needed to come to this themselves, if they could manage it. It was difficult, though, to sit and watch his friends struggle so.

Finally, Athos spoke up. “We need to talk,” he said then immediately wanted to bite his tongue at his choice of words. “What I mean is, Porthos and I need to talk. Of what happened. We have not really done so and I think… I think that is part of the problem. We must be willing to be honest with each other, to share our pain, if we are to move forward. Do you both agree?”

“I do,” Aramis said. He reached out and took each of their hands. He knew this was going to be difficult both to be spoken of and listened to but he knew it needed to be done. 

“I do as well,” Porthos said after a long moment. “I do not want to. I do not ever want to speak of the evil I was forced to do…” He held up his free hand when Aramis and Athos looked to object to his choice of words. “I do not wish to speak of it, but I know I must. Just… bear with me, ‘eh?”

“Of course,” Athos said. “Take what time you need to gather your thoughts. We are none of us going anywhere.”

Porthos offered a tense smile at Athos’ words and forced himself to be calm. “The thing I hated most,” he began, “was feeling so bloody helpless. I was a prisoner inside my own body. I could see and hear and… and feel, but I couldn’t do anything to stop it.

“She _liked_ that I was privy to everything she was doin’. Everything she was plannin’ on doin’. And the more I raged the more she liked it. Those first couple of times, when I came back to myself, everything was… fuzzy… like looking through water. And the nightmares. I couldn’t really remember ‘em, but I knew they were bad and that they had Aramis in ‘em… and Athos, too.”

Porthos looked directly at Athos, needing the man to see the truth of his next words more than anything. “I tried, brother,” he said, his voice strained. “I tried so hard. I fought and screamed and raged and **_begged_**. Anything to make her stop _hurting_ you.”

Porthos shook his head, as if trying to shake the horrible images from his mind. “The things she said… the things she made me say to Aramis. How she kept threatening him… telling him what all she was gonna do to you… how she was gonna make you **sing** … It was the most sickening thing I ever heard in my life, and it was my voice sayin’ it all.”

Porthos had to stop and look away. He could feel tears running down his face and wiped at them angrily. When he somewhat calm again, he looked back at Athos. “I knew every sick thing she planned to do to you. She made sure of it. She made sure I knew she planned to… to rape you… in front of him. That she planned to use me to… to finish you… that way. She let me know she planned to kill Aramis, too, after you were dead. But she was gonna do it slow, make him bleed out, so he’d have to watch me die, too.”

Porthos barked out a dark laugh then and had to clench his jaw to keep it from turning into a sob. “I was lookin’ forward to that part,” he admitted. “To finally dyin’. Least then I couldn’t be made to hurt my family no more. She thought that was funny… that I _wanted_ to die by then… that I couldn’t stomach the thought of livin’ with what all I’d done to you.”

And the thought of that, of having to live with the knowledge that he had taken the lives of his brothers, was enough to shatter the last of Porthos’ control. Great shuddering sobs tore through him as he remembered all of the fear and pain he had felt. He could feel Aramis’ and Athos’ hands on him, touching and stroking him as they tried to comfort him. It seemed to take forever, but his emotions were spent at last and Porthos was able to find his voice once more.

“I’m alright,” he said, his voice ragged. He looked up at the other two and saw the twin looks of doubt on their faces and chuckled. “Fine. I’ll be alright. Let’s just… let’s just finish this.”

“You do not need to go on,” Athos began but Porthos stopped him.

“Yeah, I do,” he said. “Need to get this out while I can. If I don’t do it now, I may never be able to.”

Athos looked at him then finally relented. He hating seeing his friend so distressed but he understood the need to get this over with while he still had the strength. With a last grip to his shoulder, Athos returned to his place at the far end of the divan and waited for Porthos to continue.

Porthos waited a few moments more then made himself continue. There were still things he needed his brothers to understand. “The things I said… the things she made me say… you know they were lies. Nothing but lies meant to break us and drive us apart.”

“Not all of them were lies,” Aramis countered softly. “I did, after all, harbor feelings for you.”

“Yeah,” Porthos agreed. “But she didn’t know that. She was just tryin’ to drive a wedge between us.” Porthos could not help but glance at D’Artagnan then. He did not mention what he had said about Athos and the boy. He did not want to cause problems between the pair and he was still concerned about Aramis’ own fears in regards to D’Artagnan and his place in Athos’ life.

“I’ll never forget what I did to you,” he said, directing the conversation away from D’Artagnan once more. “Every time I see Athos’ back, I’ll remember what I did.”

“Would it be easier on you if I were not here?” Athos asked as calmly as he could, his mask of stoicism firmly in place.

For one horrible second Porthos looked terrified then he leaned across Aramis and took Athos by the shoulder. “No!” he said fervently. “You… you not bein’ here where I can _see_ with my own eyes that you’re safe and whole… No, Athos. No.”

“Peace, brother,” Athos said, gripping the arm Porthos was holding him by. “If my presence makes it easier then I shall be here. I would not see you suffer needlessly, Porthos. You are far too good a man for such a fate.”

“Too good a man?” Porthos gasped, stunned. “Athos, have you heard nothing of what I’ve said?”

“I’ve heard everything you’ve said,” he replied calmly. “I heard you speak of being forced to watch while I was hurt. I heard you speak of fighting with everything you had to break free. I heard you speak of longing to _die_ rather than live with acts that **_you had no control over_**. I have heard you, brother. I have heard everything you have said.”

They had to stop for a while after that as none of them were in any shape to continue. While Aramis had remained silent, he was pale and shaking by the time Porthos had finished. Even D’Artagnan was affected. While he had known the gist of what had gone on, he had not been privy to any of the details. Athos had never offered to speak of it and he had not wanted to push. Hearing how bad things had gotten before he had managed to return left his stomach in knots and he was glad the others were too preoccupied at the moment to notice his distress.

By evening, Athos had decided they could put it off no longer. He needed to talk of the events that had occurred from his point of view so that his brothers might better understand. D’Artagnan suggested waiting until the next day but Athos wanted to get it over with so they might start to focus on moving forward.

Reluctantly, D’Artagnan agreed and, when everyone was returned to their places, Athos began to talk of his version of events. He started at the beginning, with Porthos’ first assault on him. “The first time it happened, I didn’t really understand all of the ramifications. I am ashamed to admit that I thought… I thought it was merely Porthos giving me an object lesson in what would happen should I harm Aramis in any way. I am so sorry. I should have known then… I think part of me did know, but I did not want to admit that it could be something so… so… unfathomable.”

“Understandable,” Porthos said softly. It hurt to know that Athos thought he might actually hurt him in such a way of his own free will, but he could understand it, too. Had he not threatened such a thing before they even arrived at the ruin? It was easy to see how Athos, already hesitant about pursuing a relationship with Aramis, could misconstrue what had happened.

Athos chose not to argue with Porthos. He disagreed with him completely but he knew now was neither the time nor the place for that conversation. They would be having it, though. Athos would not leave his friend to harbor such thoughts about himself for long.

“The second time it happened,” Athos pressed on, “I knew something was very wrong. Even in a blind rage, Porthos does not possess the strength to hold me off the ground one handed whilst I fight him. And the words he spoke…” Athos glanced at D’Artagnan then and quickly looked away. He did not wish to repeat the vitriolic words Porthos has spewed at him, especially in front of the other man. It was bad enough that Aramis knew of the accusations. 

D’Artagnan frowned when Athos looked at him then away again. He saw color bloom in the other man’s cheeks and did not understand why. Surmising that it had something to do with him, he urged Athos onward. “Whatever it is, just say it already,” he prodded then steeled himself not to react to whatever was about to come.

“Porthos… when he was holding me off the ground… choking me… he said… he said that he knew what I was doing. That he could see that I was trying to seduce you the same way I had Aramis.” Athos kept his eyes glued to the floor, unable to risk looking up at his friend and seeing anger or, worse yet, disgust in his eyes.

“Athos…” D’Artagnan huffed softly. Of all the things he had expected to hear, this had not even entered his mind.

“I do not know what I did or said to make him think that I de-desired you in such a manner,” Athos rushed on, desperate for D’Artagnan to believe him. “I know I have behaved inappropriately toward you but I hope… I hope you do not feel I have taken… taken undue liberties…”

“Athos, stop,” D’Artagnan said, unable to listen to any more. “You have taken no such liberties and you _would_ not. If you had feelings for me in this regard you would have spoken of them.”

“You give me more credit than I am due,” Athos said. “I am not so sure I would have spoken of such a thing. After all, I did not speak of my feelings for Aramis. He found out by accident alone.”

D’Artagnan opened his mouth to reply then closed it again. He did not have an answer to that. At least not one that he thought Athos would accept. Instead, he held his tongue. This was the least of their worries at the moment and he would not allow it to interfere with other more important matters.

Unable to stand seeing the distress on Athos’ face any longer, Aramis reached out and took his hand. He did not speak, but let Athos know by his touch alone that he would find no censure from him. Even if his fears were found out to be true, Aramis would not hold them against Athos. “Tell us the rest of it,” Aramis prompted when Athos remained silent.

Athos looked at Aramis then and saw nothing but understanding and encouragement in his eyes. Taking a calming breath, he forged on. “The final time… when we were caught off guard… I have never felt so helpless in all my life. Even when I was to be executed, I did not feel such a sense of helplessness as I did then.”

Athos had wanted to fight, had been desperate to do anything other than simply go to his knees like a dog. But he had been terrified that any show of defiance on his part would only get Aramis hurt. “When he bade me open my mouth… and then shoved my own musket inside…” Athos had to pause to breath, the remembered shame nearly as crippling as it had been when it had actually happened. “I… did not fight. I let him… let it… I was afraid for Aramis… and… when I heard Aramis cry out I knew then that he could see what was being done… what I was doing… the shame…”

For a moment, Athos was lost in the memories, the feel of a hand holding his head back brutally, the taste of oil and gunpowder in his mouth. Then a hand was holding onto his hard and another was gripping his shoulder and he was back with them again, on the divan, safe. He held Aramis’ hand in return and nodded to Porthos as he gathered his scattered wits about him once more.

“I was ashamed of allowing myself to be used in such a manner… and of Aramis being forced to bear witness to it. The demon, she spoke of… making alternate uses of my same musket. All I could think of was that I hoped she would not make Aramis watch if she did.”

They paused again, needing to let themselves calm down before continuing. For that, D’Artagnan was grateful. For while this was bad enough for the three men reliving it, it was even worse for the one who had no idea it had happened in the first place. He had not arrived back at the ruin when that had taken place and Athos had never spoken of it to him. Luckily for him, the others were too concerned with calming their own nerves to notice how he gripped the arm of the chair with one white-knuckled hand while the other clenched and unclenched over and over again as he fought to keep from being sick right then and there.

Athos took another steadying breath and began what he hoped would be the last of his tale. “When it strung me up between the pillars, I knew it would be bad. But when it laid me open with the very first blow, well… then I began to doubt if I would even survive the beating, much less whatever else the monster had in store for me. I tried not to scream. I did not want to give it the satisfaction and I knew it would only distress Aramis more to hear my pain as well as see it.”

In the end he had screamed, long and loud, until his voice broke and he hung limp and broken. “Things get a bit, um, unclear after that,” Athos admitted. “I remember it telling me all of the vile things it intended to do to me, most of which I doubt I would have lived through. Or perhaps I dreamed that part. I do remember it asking me if Aramis was worth such a sacrifice. And I remember telling it yes. He was, and **is** , worth everything to me.

“I’m afraid I don’t remember anything after that until I woke up with my head in Aramis’ lap, my back having already been sewn up and bandaged.” Athos let out a breath as he looked at Aramis and Porthos, glad that the telling was over. He felt almost completely drained, but when he turned his head to look at D’Artagnan, he gasped at the banked fury he saw in the younger man’s eyes.

“Excuse me,” D’Artagnan muttered as he stood up and strode from the room in long, angry strides, unable to listen to any more of the horrors that Athos had endured.

Athos made to stand but Porthos’ hand on his arm stopped him. “Give the lad a moment,” he said, his eyes filled with a compassionate sort of understanding. “I had not realized that none of us had spoken to him of any of this.”

Athos closed his eyes as he realized what had just happened. While D’Artagnan had known of the whipping, he had not known of any of the other things that had occurred after he had left. And by not speaking of them before now, they had effectively blind-sided the younger man.

When the red haze that had taken over D’Artagnan’s mind had cleared he was not surprised to find himself in the barn. It was where he had taken to going whenever he wanted to think or simply be alone for a few minutes. Right now, however, the last thing he wanted to do was think. All he wanted to do was hit something again and again and again until his hand split open from the force of it. In the end, it took every ounce of will power he possessed not to simply punch the barn wall. The only reason he did not was because he thought that perhaps returning to the house with a broken hand might make his friends feel even worse.

The small and rather petty part of him wished he could be angry at Porthos, or even the demon, but he could not. No, his anger was reserved for himself alone. If only he had gotten back sooner, then Athos would not have had to suffer so. Porthos was not the only one who would forever find the scars on Athos’ back a grim reminder. 

When he was finally calm once more, he made his way back to the house. He found his friends where he had left them, though it appeared that Porthos was having to bodily restrain Athos from coming after him. “My apologies,” he said as he sat back down in his chair. “I did not mean to take such an abrupt leave of you all.”

“It is I who should apologize,” Athos replied. “I did not mean to upset you so.”

“Don’t. Athos, just don’t,” D’Artagnan said, his voice more clipped than he meant it to be but unable to do anything about it. “I am not upset with you. Not with any of you. I just… needed a moment.”

“Alright, lad,” Porthos said, and while it was clear that Athos and Aramis both wished to say something, they held their tongues.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, slight warning... This chapter took a massive left turn on me. I blame my muse completely. I managed to get somewhat back on track by the end (I think).

Part 28

“There is one last thing I feel I should tell you,” Athos said, looking at Aramis and Porthos. He had debated mentioning it at all but decided that they had a right to know regardless of how angry it might make them.

“What is it?” Porthos asked, unsure what Athos could have to tell them that they did not already know.

“When you were… that is, when Aramis and Father Andre’ were attempting to exorcise the demon… I was not sure they would succeed.”

“I cannot fault you for that, Athos,” Porthos told him. “I was not at all sure myself.”

“That… that is not all. I… I am sorry, but I would not have left you that way,” he explained. “If they had not been able to free you… D’Artagnan and I would have.”

“What are you saying?” Aramis demanded, paling at the implication of Athos’ words.

“That we would not have left our brother to suffer, chained to that thing,” Athos said, meeting and holding Aramis’ eyes. “We would have freed him… however we had to.”

Aramis jerked away from Athos in horror. He turned sideways on the divan, putting himself firmly between Athos and Porthos as if shielding one from the other. “How dare you?” he practically snarled. 

“Aramis!” Porthos gasped. “Stop this, brother.”

“They were talking about *killing* you!” Aramis roared though he never took his eyes off of Athos.

“They were talking about freein’ me,” Porthos argued, pitching his voice soft and low in an attempt to calm his friend. “If you and the priest couldn’t do it, they were goin’ to make sure I couldn’t hurt anyone else and that *she* couldn’t hurt *me* any more either.”

Aramis continued to glare daggers at Athos, glad when the man shrank back from him. He could not believe that Athos had actually intended to kill Porthos. How could he even think of such a thing let alone be willing to carry it out.

“Aramis,” Porthos tried again, hoping to calm him. He could see how much his reaction was hurting Athos but he didn’t know what to say or do to get through to Aramis. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?” Aramis spat. “That our so called friends were plotting to kill you while I was trying to save your life?”

“That our bloody friends were willing to make you hate them forever to see me free,” Porthos countered hotly. “Do you truly believe I would want to live as that thing’s slave for the rest of my life? Do you? I’m *glad* they had a plan for it. You have no idea how relieved I am to know that if nothing else, they would have made sure I died free.”

Aramis turned to look at Porthos then. He saw the anger burning in his eyes and suddenly felt ashamed by his outburst. He knew Athos would not have even suggested such a course of action lightly, nor would D’Artagnan have agreed to it. He had reacted solely out of his residual fear of losing Porthos and, in doing so, had done his two friends a grave disservice. Closing his eyes, he took a few steadying breaths before opening hem again and offering Porthos a tight smile. “I am sorry,” he said softly before turning back around to face Athos once more.

When Aramis looked back at Athos he felt his heart clench in his chest. The man’s eyes were shuttered, every emotional shield he had firmly in place. Aramis had not seen him so closed off since the early days of their friendship.

“I am sorry,” Aramis said. He reached out for Athos hand and was surprised when the man actually let him take it. His eyes did not soften though and Aramis felt another knot form in the pit of his stomach. “Please. I did not mean… I was… “

“Think nothing of it,” Athos said smoothly, the calmness in his voice somehow worse than if he were shouting.

“Athos,” Aramis pleaded. “I am sorry. Please...”

“Yes, I know,” Athos replied a bit more sharply than he intended. 

“Perhaps it would be best if we took a break,” D’Artagnan suggested. He was at as much of a loss as Aramis was at how to fix this at the moment and hoped a bit of space would allow everyone to calm down. He understood Aramis’ reaction, but that did not stop him from sorely wanting to hit the man because of it. 

“An excellent idea,” Athos said, standing quickly. “If you gentlemen will excuse me.” With a brief nod, he strode from the room, leaving the other three behind. He had a feeling D’Artagnan would be following him soon enough which was fine with him. For the moment, though, he embraced the solitude, pulling it around him like armor – armor he had not had to wear with his friends in a very long time.

Aramis watched him leave with a growing feeling of dread. He turned beseeching eyes on Porthos and found his dark eyes filled with worry as well. “I’ll talk to him,” D’Artagnan said wearily. Part of him was as angry as Athos at Aramis’ outburst, perhaps even more so, since he had directed his anger at Athos alone when it had been the both of them that had made the decision. Still, he could understand Aramis’ reaction to a degree. After all, if it had been Athos, he was fairly certain he would not have reacted much better. 

“I… I did not mean…” Aramis tried to say, but D’Artagnan stood and cut him off.

“I know,” he said as gently as he could manage. “Athos does as well. He just was not expecting your reaction even though he probably should have been.” He paused then and looked at Aramis for a moment. “If it makes any difference, it would not have been by Athos’ hand.”

“Lad?” Porthos queried, not quite understanding what the younger man was saying.

“I would have been the one to do it,” he clarified. “Athos was in no fit state and… well, I would not have left it to him regardless. So if you must be angry at anyone, Aramis, I suggest you be angry at me for I am the one that would have taken him from you. Not Athos.”

Having said all he could, D’Artagnan left them and went in search of his friend. He found him where he expected to, in the barn brushing out his horse. He watched him for a moment, until the other man felt his eyes on him and turned to face him. 

“Everything alright?” Athos asked. He took in the way D’Artagnan was leaning against the barn wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching him intently.

The younger man shrugged in reply then pushed away from the wall and walked toward him. “Aramis is upset with himself. Figure Porthos will look after him. You okay?”

“Fine and fit,” Athos replied with a smirk. 

D’Artagnan huffed out a laugh then pulled Athos into a loose hug. “I told Aramis that it would have been me that did it, if it had come to that,” he admitted as he held the other man. 

“You did not have to do that,” Athos replied. He wrapped his arms around the other’s waist loosely, enjoying the closeness.

“Thought he should know that it wouldn’t have been you that took Porthos from him. Don’t know if it helped or not. It just…”

“Just what?” Athos asked when D’Artagnan did not finish his sentence.

He paused for a moment then decided to simply be honest. “It just pissed me off that he was blaming you for it all, like you were the only one responsible, like you would have been the one to do it.”

“I am the one in charge,” Athos reminded him. “The onus should have fallen to me.”

“Athos, even if you had been ‘fine and fit’ as you say, I would *never* have let you be the one to do it,” D’Artagnan told him earnestly. 

“D’Artagnan…”

“No,” he said softly. “You are my dearest friend and I would never allow you to bear such a burden when I could do it in your stead.” D’Artagnan could feel the moment suddenly becoming much more intimate and hesitated. Unsure what else to do, he pulled back and offered Athos a ghost of a smile. “Now, do you feel up to going back inside or would you rather stay out here for a bit longer?”

“We should probably go back,” Athos said, allowing the other man to change the subject to somewhat safer ground. “I am sure Aramis has managed to worry himself quite needlessly by now.”

“I do not know that I would call it needless. He should worry. His behavior was appalling. If you did not love him so, I would have demanded satisfaction in your name.”

“You cannot beat him in a fight, D’Artagnan,” Athos said in alarm.

“Perhaps not,” he admitted, “but I would have challenged him all the same. But it does not matter for you do love him and I would never draw a blade against someone you care for.”

Athos felt his heartbeat return to normal at the younger man’s assurance that he would not challenge Aramis to a duel. The lad was good, but he was not the swordsman that Aramis was and Athos did not want to see any of his friends hurt because of him.

They returned to the house with Athos leading the way. D’Artagnan had not wanted it to seem as though he were having to lead Athos back. He understood how fragile everything was at the moment and knew that it would take very little to shatter it irrevocably. 

As soon as Athos entered the room, Aramis was up and moving toward him. He pulled Athos into his arms before he could protest and held him tightly. “I am so, so sorry,” he whispered into Athos’ ear as he held him. “I did not mean… I know you would not have done it if there had been any other choice. I know you were only thinking to free him. Please, forgive me.”

“Shhh,” Athos soothed. He returned the tight embrace, holding Aramis to him as desperately as he was being held. “It is alright. I understand. I am not angry with you.”

They stayed like that for long minutes, until Porthos came over and guided them back to the divan. D’Artagnan had gone to retrieve a bottle of wine and had poured them all a glass to help settle their nerves. He gulped his down at once, letting the warmth of the alcohol chase away the last of the cold anger he had felt.

Porthos raised an eyebrow at D’Artagnan’s uncharacteristic drinking but held his tongue. It was clear the lad was still upset both about what he had learned and about Aramis’ outburst. But he had gotten Athos to come back inside and, better still, to let his walls back down and let them back in. They were really going to have to find a way to thank him when this was finally over with for he had certainly taken on more than even a brother could rightly be expected to.

“Athos,” Porthos began when it became clear that no one else was going to speak. “I just want to say… that is… thank you. Both of you. I know even speaking of such a thing could not have been easy for you. I would rather die free than live in chains and you knew that, so you have my thanks and my sincere hope that you are never again forced to contemplate such an act.”

They spent the rest of the evening drinking wine and talking of other, inconsequential, things. D’Artagnan, still feeling the need to watch over them, only sipped at his second glass. By the time they had finished two bottles, they were all much more relaxed and the conversation moved onto stories from before D’Artagnan had joined them.

When they retired for the night, D’Artagnan was still sober while his three companions were somewhat less than. He grinned as kept an eye on Athos’ unsteady gait, amused but not wanting him to fall either. He knew Porthos, who was almost as sober as he was, was doing the same for Aramis so he had only his own charge to worry about.

Once they were safely inside their room, he bent down to help Athos out of his boots. “I can undress myself,” Athos groused good-naturedly.

D’Artagnan looked up at him with a smirk and asked, “Without falling over?”

Athos mumbled a reply but let him help with his boots making D’Artagnan laugh. Once they were removed, he stood and allowed Athos to finish undressing himself while he set to work on his own clothes. 

When D’Artagnan turned back toward the bed, it was to find Athos looking at him rather sheepishly. He frowned, unsure what the problem was. “What is it?” he asked.

“If you would prefer not to share a bed with me… I will understand,” Athos told him.

“Why wouldn’t I want to share the bed with you?” D’Artagnan asked, genuinely perplexed.

“After what was said,” Athos explained. “If you are uncomfortable…”

“I thought we already discussed this,” D’Artagnan said as he climbed into bed next to Athos. He laid down on his back and pulled the other man over to him so that he was laying pressed up against his side with his head resting on D’Artagnan’s shoulder. “You have taken no liberties. At least not any that I would not have willingly granted you. And I hope you do not mind, but I… I need you close to me tonight. I need to be able to feel you…”

“Then you shall,” Athos told him as he let himself relax into the other man’s embrace. “You have offered me unending comfort and support. Let me offer you the same.”

“Thank you,” D’Artagnan whispered. He hesitated a moment, then turned his head and kissed Athos on the forehead before closing his eyes and trying to sleep.


	29. Chapter 29

Part 29

“I think I actually managed to make D’Artagnan angry with me,” Aramis mused as he and Porthos settled in for the night.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Porthos replied. “The lad never holds a grudge for long.”

“True. I still feel I should apologize to him. He has done so much for us and it is obvious he feels any slight to Athos as keenly as if it were his own.”

Porthos sighed and pulled Aramis against him then he thought better of it and rolled them until Aramis was lying on top of Porthos. “That’s better,” Porthos grinned up at him. He liked the feel of Aramis atop him. The solid weight of him pressing down was comforting. 

Aramis could not help but smile back, his earlier worries about D’Artagnan drifting away as he started down at Porthos. Licking his lips, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Porthos’ mouth. He kept it simple at first but before long he was swiping at Porthos’ lips with his tongue, all but demanding entrance.

Porthos was all too happy to oblige Aramis and opened his mouth willingly. He moaned when he felt Aramis’ tongue slide against his own, the taste and feel of the man exploding in his mouth. He felt himself hardening in his small clothes and was gratified when he felt an answering hardness pressing into his hip from above. Of their own volition, his hands tangled in Aramis’ hair and he deepened the kiss, pushing his own tongue into Aramis’ mouth with a growl.

Aramis was nearly panting as Porthos took control of the kiss, holding his head in place and seemingly trying to taste every part of his mouth he could find. He was achingly hard and could not stop himself from pushing his hips down and grinding his erection into Porthos. 

Suddenly, Porthos released Aramis’ hair and wrapped his arms around his waist. Before he could protest, Aramis found himself flipped over onto his back with Porthos lying on top of him. Porthos looked down at him for a moment, searching his eyes or any hint of fear then he was kissing him again, his tongue once more invading Aramis’ mouth. 

Aramis whimpered at the feel of Porthos pinning him to the bed and simply *taking* his mouth. He tried to buck his hips upward seeking more friction and nearly choked when Porthos ground down against him. He could feel his completion start to build and brought his hands down to Porthos’ ass, squeezing hard and pulling the man in tight against him.

Porthos took the hint and began to thrust and grind against Aramis. He knew neither of them were going to last for very long. They couldn’t. Not this first time. And while part of him wished that they were taking things slower, that he was being gentler about it, he knew this was what they both needed. There would be plenty of time for slow gentle love making later. Right now, they both just needed to rut.

Aramis felt his climax building and pushed upward hard at the same time Porthos ground down. It was enough to send him over the edge and he cried out into Porthos’ mouth as his body jerked. The feel of Aramis coming undone beneath him was enough to send Porthos over the edge as well and he ground against him as he spilled inside his small clothes.

Both men were panting when they were finished. Porthos rested his head on Aramis’ shoulder, kissing it gently, before rolling off to lay beside him. “You good?” he asked, the slightest hint of worry in his voice. He had not meant for things to go that far between them.

“Very good,” Aramis chuckled. “You worry too much, love. While I am sure there will be pitfalls, I trust you completely. And that… that was very long overdue I think.”

“Yeah,” Porthos agreed, unable to keep the smile from his face as he simply looked at the man who was now, officially, his lover. 

“Now, let us get out of these clothes before they become permanently attached,” Aramis said as he got up. 

Porthos followed him and, once they were naked and cleaned up, they returned to the bed. Holding each other, they let sleep take them, determined to worry about what all might happen when they awoke.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Morning came and D’Artagnan was not surprised to find that he was awake before Athos again. He was a bit surprised to find that neither of them appeared to have moved during the night. Athos was still sleeping pressed against his side, his head pillowed on his shoulder. As D’Artagnan took stock of their situation, he frowned. He could feel something digging into his hip. He started to shift and when Athos shifted accordingly, he realized just *what* it was that he was pressing into him.

Feeling his face flush in mortification, he stilled, not wanting to wake Athos. He did not know how the man would react to finding himself in such a compromising position with him and did not want to embarrass or anger him. Athos was feeling guilty enough for his imaginary impositions. D’Artagnan could easily envision what this might cause. And that did not include what might happen should Aramis find out. 

D’Artagnan was not stupid nor was he particularly unobservant. He had seen the looks Aramis had been giving him of late and he knew exactly what they meant. He had held his tongue mainly because he knew of no way to ease his mind and he had no intention of removing himself from Athos’ side unless the man specifically asked him to. Even then, he would refuse to venture far. 

No, Aramis was simply going to have to accept his presence in Athos’ life just as D’Artagnan accepted Aramis’. But that did not mean he had to rub the man’s face in it or make him think that things were going on that most certainly were not. He had considered taking Aramis aside and assuring the man that there was nothing but brotherhood between he and Athos but he was hesitant to do so. He did not understand why, but every time he had started to something had stopped him. Trusting his intuition, D’Artagnan had let it be and hoped simply ignoring the matter would be enough.

That was the strategy he was currently employing as well. He hoped by simply ignoring the rather insistent erection pressing into his hip that it would somehow go away on its own. It was not the best of plans, he realized, but it was the only one he had as the only other option was to try to leave the bed without waking Athos, which he knew would be impossible.

Just when he thought he might have to chance it, Athos began to stir. Not knowing what else to do, D’Artagnan closed his eyes and pretended to still be asleep. However, as Athos came awake, he moved against D’Artagnan, rubbing his erection fully against him and gasped. 

D’Artagnan felt Athos recoil and sighed. He cracked open his eyes and glanced at the man without turning his head. Athos was pressed against the wall, putting as much space between them as he could. His face was flushed in embarrassment and D’Artagnan wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort him. 

“Good morning,” he said softly, trying to appear as normal and unaffected as possible.

Athos stared at him, mouth agape. He tried to say something but he could seem to form words. In the end, he settled for shaking his head and trying to press back into the wall even further.

D’Artagnan sat up then and grimaced. He let the sheet pool in his lap, exposing his naked chest. He reached out a hand to Athos and was not surprised when the man pulled back from it. Still, with the wall behind him, Athos had nowhere to really go and he quickly latched onto his wrist and pulled him toward him.

“Stop this,” he commanded, his voice gentle but firm. “You have done nothing that I have taken offense at. I am a man, you know. I do understand the state that men normally wake in, especially when there is a warm body next to them.”

Athos could not stop himself from glancing down at the blanket pooled in the other man’s lap. Raising an eyebrow, D’Artagnan pulled it aside and let Athos see that he was, at least somewhat, similarly affected. “I am not immune, brother,” he told him. “The feel of you... in my arms affects me as well.”

“But…”

“But what?” D’Artagnan prompted.

“But you do not enjoy such things,” Athos said guiltily.

“What has that to do with enjoying the feel of you in my arms?” D’Artagnan asked. “Just because I do not *prefer* to lie with men does not mean I do not enjoy lying with you.” D’Artagnan watched as Athos eyes widened at his words and he replayed them in his mind then cursed.

“I did not mean that as it sounded,” he said quickly. “I only meant that I enjoyed… I… bloody hell.”

“Peace, brother,” Athos told him. He could see how upset the younger man was becoming at his inability to make himself understood. “If I have given no offense then I am glad for it. Know that your words have given none as well.”

By the time they entered the main hall, Aramis and Porthos were already there. Once more they took up their positions near the fire, thought they were unsure what was left to discuss. As soon as they were all seated, Aramis began to fidget.

“Is something wrong?” Athos asked worriedly.

“Not as such,” Aramis replied then turned his attention to D’Artagnan. “I feel I owe you an apology, D’Artagnan. My words and actions yesterday angered you greatly and for that, I am sorry.”

“You owe me nothing,” D’Artagnan replied, turning his apology away. In truth, part of him was still quite angry with Aramis over what had happened but he meant what he had said to Athos. He would not willingly do harm to someone Athos loved so dearly.

“But I do,” Aramis insisted softly. “You were angry with me for what I said to Athos. Furious even. I could see it in your eyes.”

“Fine,” he relented. “Yes, I was angry. And if it had been anyone but you saying such things to him, we would have crossed blades over it.”

Aramis bit back a gasp, finally realizing just how angry the other man had been, and just how protective he was of Athos. “I am sorry,” he apologized again.

“It is over, Aramis,” D’Artagnan replied. Then, because he knew Athos wanted him to he added, “it is forgiven. Do not let it trouble you further.”

They sat for a bit before Athos finally broke the silence. “I believe there is but one story left to tell,” he said.

“What story is that?” Porthos asked with a frown.

“D’Artagnan’s,” Athos replied. “I know you had hoped we would forget, but I would know the circumstances. I do believe you, but…”

“If it will set your mind at ease, I will gladly tell you. But I will not give you his name. He did no wrong and I would not have you harass him because of some imagined slight. Agreed?”

“Very well,” Athos relented. He knew that if he insisted, D’Artagnan would tell him who the man was and contented himself with that for now.

“It was not so long after I had joined you,” he began. “After the incident at the prison with Vadim.”

D’Artagnan had been more shook up than he had let on to his three friends. Being strapped to kegs of gunpowder and watching the fuse burn down with no help in sight had shaken him. He had gone back to Constance’s but the walls kept closing in on him, making him feel like he was in that room all over again. Not knowing what else to do, he went in search of his friends hoping some time spent in their company would help chase his lingering fears away.

Unfortunately, he had not been able to find them. He had not been with them for that long and had only known of a few of the taverns they frequented. After checking those and not finding them, he had returned to the garrison to see if one of the other Musketeers might know where he could look. 

In the end, he had not asked, not wanting to seem like a lost puppy trailing after its masters. Not wanting to return to his rented room either, he had stayed at the garrison watching the late night comings and goings. After a while, another Musketeer had sat down beside him and introduced himself. He had said he had seen him with the others and they had talked. 

D’Artagnan had been grateful. He had not wanted to be alone but he did not know anyone in Paris except or his three friends and Constance. An hour or so later, the other Musketeer had invited D’Artagnan back to his lodgings to continue their conversation over some wine. 

“Stop scowling,” D’Artagnan told Athos. “He didn’t seduce me. I… I had a pretty good idea of why he was asking me to go with him. I could have said no.”

“Could you?” Athos asked. 

D’Artagnan did not reply. After a moment, he continued on with his tale, wanting to get it over with. “We did talk, once we got to his lodgings,” he explained.

They had talked of many things. Of the Musketeers. Of the Inseparables, as they were called. Of their families and homes and who they had left behind to come to Paris and serve the King. Eventually, the talk had turned to lovers and that was when he had made it clear to D’Artagnan that he saw nothing wrong with lying with men as he did with women. 

D’Artagnan had been a bit shocked at first, but he thought he had covered it well. At least the other man was kind enough to act as if he did. That simple kindness, along with his own desperate need to remember he was alive, was enough for D’Artagnan. When, a few minutes later, the man made a subtle pass, D’Artagnan responded.

“You can probably imagine how things went from there,” he said, unable to keep from blushing a bit. “He didn’t hurt me or anything. He wasn’t rough and he didn’t do anything I didn’t agree to. It just…”

“Just what?” Athos asked.

D’Artagnan looked away for a moment then back at his friends. “It was afterward when I was getting dressed. I just felt…” He shrugged unable to put his thoughts into words that wouldn’t sound damning to the other man. He didn’t want to say he had felt used afterwards but, in truth, he had. However, if he told Athos that he had a feeling the other Musketeer wouldn’t be long for this earth.

Athos looked at his young friend. He kept his mask firmly in place but his emotions were all over the place. He hated that D’Artagnan’s first time with a man had been so obviously unsatisfactory. He also *abhorred* the idea that one of his Musketeer brothers had taken advantage of the lad when he had been so vulnerable. The strength of his reaction startled him a bit as well. He could understand having such a reaction if it had been Aramis’ tale but he did not understand why he was reacting so viscerally to D’Artagnan’s.

“Athos?” Porthos called to him softly. “You alright, brother?”

“No,” Athos admitted. “I wish to know this man’s name, D’Artagnan.”

“I’m not going to tell you that. He did no wrong, Athos. I’m not going to let you hurt him for some imagined slight.”

“I plan to do much more than hurt him,” Athos muttered then raised his voice. “And the slight is not imagined. He took advantage of you. You were hurting and he used that to… to…”

“Athos,” D’Artagnan interrupted before he could get himself worked up. “I am a grown man. I made the decision to go with him knowing what would likely happen. I gave my consent. More than once. If I ended up feeling used when it was all said and done, I have no one to blame but myself for that.”

“Oh, Whelp,” Aramis gasped. He felt equally guilty for having left the younger man alone that night. They should have stayed with them or taken him with them. They should never have simply left him on his own because he *said* he was fine.

“I am so sorry, my dearest friend,” Athos told him. 

“Don’t be,” D’Artagnan replied shaking his head. He pinned Porthos with a look before the man could open his mouth and as well. “I’m not sorry it happened. I… I may regret the circumstances but that is all.”

Realizing they would not be able to dissuade D’Artagnan from his belief that his fellow Musketeer had done nothing wrong, the three let the subject drop for now. Aramis and Porthos had no doubt that Athos planned to bring it up again once he was alone with the lad. And if he was unable to get the man’s name from him, well, surely someone must have seen who D’Artagnan had gone off with that night. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Having exhausted themselves with talking, Athos went out to the barn to turn their horses out for a while. At a look from Aramis, Porthos decided to join him, leaving him and D’Artagnan alone in the house. 

“Something wrong?” D’Artagnan asked once Porthos had gone.

“No. No, not at all,” Aramis said quickly. “I was, uh, wondering if you would be willing to assist me with something.”

“Of course,” D’Artagnan replied at once.

Aramis smiled ruefully at him. A few hours ago the lad had still been quite angry with him. Porthos was right, he did not hold onto grudges for long. “You are generous to a fault, D’Artagnan,” he said. “But that is beside the point. I wanted to ask if you might help me to… well… maneuver Athos a bit.”

“Maneuver Athos?” D’Artagnan repeated with a frown. He did not like the thought of manipulating Athos into anything but he would at least hear Aramis out.

“I mean no harm, I assure you. It’s just… I would very much like to spend some time alone with him. As you have seen, he has proven quit adept at avoiding any such thing and, well…”

“I understand,” D’Artagnan said. “While I do not like manipulating him in such a way, I will help you. Once. He seems to be of the absurd notion that he is somehow protecting you by keeping himself apart. It makes as little sense to me as I’m sure it does to you.”

“Thank you,” Aramis told him gratefully. “I know of late I have seemed rather…”

“Suspicious of me?” the other man supplied. “I have eyes, Aramis. And I know what jealousy looks like, especially when it is directed my way.”

“And this is where you tell me I have nothing to worry about, yes?”

D’Artagnan looked at his friend closely, careful to keep his body from betraying his sudden tension. “This is where I do not lie to my friend,” D’Artagnan told him. “In all truth, I do not know what I feel for Athos these days. But it is of little importance. His heart is quite firmly seated in your hands and what is not held by you is held by Porthos. All I ask, is that you be mindful of it. It has been badly bruised and I am not sure it could survive such rough handling again.”


	30. Chapter 30

Part 30

Athos was rubbing his horse’s nose before turning it out with the others when he heard someone enter the barn. He turned, expecting to find D’Artagnan and was surprised to find Porthos instead. He could tell from the way Porthos hesitated just inside the entryway that he was ill at ease about something. “Is everything alright?” he asked, his thoughts immediately turning to the two not with them. 

“Oh yeah,” Porthos said quickly. He had not mean to worry the man, but he was a bit nervous. He needed to tell Athos about the change in his and Aramis’ relationship and was not at all sure he would take it well considering how he had reacted the last time. 

“Porthos?”

“I just… I, uh, I wanted to tell you… Aramis and I… things went a bit further last night…”

Athos stared at Porthos, his brow furrowed before the meaning of his words sank in. “Oh,” he said, blinking in surprise and blushing a bit at the unbidden picture that came to mind. “Did, um, that is, did everything… go… well?”

Porthos huffed out a soft laugh and said, “Yeah.”

“Good,” Athos replied sincerely. “As long as you both are happy then I am as well. You need not fear my reaction to such news again.”

Porthos closed the distance between them quickly but refrained from pulling him into an embrace as he truly wanted to. Instead he put his hands on his shoulders and looked down into Athos’ eyes. “Just don’t pull away from him… from us. We love you, Athos, and we want this with you. So remember that, okay?”

“I shall try,” Athos replied. “Though you may have to remind me if I forget myself again.”

“No worries there,” Porthos promised. “We’ll not be letting you get away from us again.”

A few minutes later D’Artagnan joined them in the barn. “Athos, Aramis needs you back at the house for a moment,” he said.

Porthos quirked an eyebrow at him as Athos left and D’Artagnan grinned. He had done his part. Now it was up to Aramis to make the most of it. 

Back at the house, Athos found Aramis sitting on the divan. “Join me?” he asked when Athos walked in.

Athos nodded and sat beside him and Aramis quickly invaded his space to press into his side causing Athos to chuckle. “I sense a plot of some sort,” he said.

“Well,” Aramis said, smiling shyly at him. “I may have asked our young Gascon to help assist me. We meant no harm. I simply wished to spend a few minutes alone with you. I hope you do not mind.”

“I do not mind,” Athos assured him and relaxed next to him as he put his arm around Aramis and held him close. They stayed like that for a little while, just enjoying the closeness they had both been missing. 

Not wanting to break the peaceful bubble that had encompassed them but needing to make sure that Aramis knew, Athos told him of his conversation with Porthos. “He told me of the… change… between you,” he said. He felt Aramis stiffen beside him and did his best to quiet him. “It is alright, love. I am happy for you.” When Aramis failed to relax beside him, Athos tried again. “I swear to you, I have no intention of trying to leave again. Even if I were so foolish, I know my friends would never allow it.”

The assurance that Athos would not try to leave them again, more than anything else, helped to calm Aramis’ worries. As long as Athos remained with them he was confident they could work things out. Or at least curb the worst of Athos’ self-sacrificing nature. He knew they could make this work among them. They were simply too devoted to each other, as well as too stubborn, to fail.

Once Aramis’ nerves had calmed once more, he remembered just why he had wanted to be alone with Athos in the first place. As he burrowed a bit further into the other man’s side, he let his hand come to lightly rest on Athos’ stomach. He smiled at the indrawn breath that simple action produced, gratified at the evidence of Athos’ desire for him. 

“You are a menace,” Athos gasped as his stomach muscles fluttered under Aramis’ gentle touch.

“May I kiss you?” Aramis asked suddenly, wanting to get the words out before he could reconsider. He did not know why he felt so shy around Athos, but he did. 

Athos turned toward him slightly and leaned down to press a careful kiss to Aramis’ lips. It was the same sort of careful kiss he had shared with him back in the church and while it made Aramis feel cherished in a way he never had before, he wanted more. 

When Athos pulled back, Aramis let him go but only for a moment. Before Athos had even pulled back completely, Aramis surged forward and caught his mouth once more. He swiped his tongue over the man’s lips, demanding entrance even as he covered Athos’ body with his own and pushed him down upon the divan. 

Athos groaned as he opened his mouth to Aramis’. The feel of the other man’s body pressed flush against his own had him hardening in his breeches faster than he thought possible. He stroked his tongue along Aramis’ own, relishing the moan it pulled from deep within the other man. Before he could stop himself, Athos was grinding his erection against Aramis’ hip, his whole body shuddering with a sudden burning need.

Aramis felt his own body respond to Athos’ blatant show of desire. He had been so worried that Athos simply did not want him any longer but did not want to tell him so. Now, feeling Athos hard against him, he could lay that fear to rest and concentrate on enjoying the feel and taste of this man.

With a groan, Athos forced himself to calm. Aramis’ willing response had set his blood on fire and he wanted nothing more than to flip him over and kiss him everywhere. Some small, still sane part of his mind knew that plan would definitely fall under ‘too much too fast’ and so made himself gentle his touches and ease their frantic kiss into something tender once again.

Reluctantly, Aramis allowed Athos to bring some restraint back to their kisses and touches. He did not want to. He wanted to lose himself with Athos as he had done with Porthos but he understood that *Athos* may very well not be ready for such a thing just yet. Besides, there was no reason to rush. Athos was not going anywhere and neither was he. They had pledged themselves to each other in this as surely as they had in everything else. Finally, Aramis felt the last bands of fear loosen from around his heart. He knew there would still be difficulties ahead. They had all suffered far too much to escape unscathed, but they were still together and that was all that truly mattered.

When Porthos and D’Artagnan came back in a short time later, it was to find them still lying together on the divan, softly kissing. “Should we give you two a bit more time?” Porthos asked, smiling widely at the sight of them. Aramis had not been the only one worried that Athos might have changed his mind and simply been unsure how to tell them. He was quite relieved to see that was not the case.

“No need,” Aramis grinned still looking down at Athos. “I have never much minded an audience.”

Porthos snorted a laugh and went to start a fire going. He had gotten used to their discussions in front of the fire. While he did that, D’Artagnan slipped from the room, heading toward the pantry. Porthos cast a glance after the younger man but let him go. If something was troubling the lad, he would let them know.

“You two look good like that,” Porthos said once the fire was going. He stood beside them for a moment, simply looking down at them and marveling at how very lucky he was to have them in his life. 

“We would look even better if you were with us,” Aramis flirted. He felt Athos stiffen beneath him slightly and frowned but Porthos spoke before he was able.

“Think we might want to wait on that a bit,” he said. “No need to rush, love. Neither of us are going anywhere. Right, Athos?”

“Right,” Athos rasped, then cleared his throat and tried again. “Right.”

Porthos ended up settling down beside them on the floor, close enough to reach out and touch, yet still separate from them. He would make sure to have a word with Aramis tonight. He had been so worried about one of them pushing Aramis too fast that he had given enough consideration to the possibility of Aramis pushing *Athos* too fast. For while the man was apparently quite comfortable with Aramis lying atop him as he was, he seriously doubted if he would be so comfortable with Porthos in that same position.

They stayed like that, simply lounging and talking of nothing, until D’Artagnan called to tell them dinner was ready. Dinner was a comfortable affair with Aramis and Porthos easily filling any silence with one tale after another. Athos, while never talkative, joined in the conversation as was his wont. D’Artagnan, however, hardly spoke unless directly prompted and, even then, his replies lacked their usual exuberance.

“Lad?” Athos asked once dinner was over and they were clearing away the table. “What troubles you?”

“Tis nothing,” D’Artagnan replied without looking at his friend. He did not really wish to discuss it. In truth, he was not sure if there was anything to discuss. His earlier words with Aramis kept running though his head and he was growing frustrated with his inability to define the rather complex feelings he had developed for Athos.

“D’Artagnan,” Athos said, gripping the younger man’s arm and making urging him to look at him. “Whatever troubles you, you can tell me. You have been such a true friend to me. I would return the care you have shown me.”

D’Artagnan looked at Athos and saw the sincerity in his eyes. He wanted to talk to him about what he was feeling, but he did not know how to put it into words that would not make him sound like some misguided youth with a bad case of hero worship.

Athos sighed and squeezed his arm before releasing it. “When you are ready,” he said. He started to return to the main hall then paused and turned back to D’Artagnan. “You do know that there is nothing you could tell me that would change my regard for you in the slightest, do you not?”

D’Artagnan opened his mouth, closed it then opened his mouth again. “I know that you believe that.”

Athos felt the other man’s words like a slap but he schooled his features to not show it. “When you can believe that as well, then I shall be there for you.”

“Athos…”

“It is alright,” Athos told him. “Trust must be earned for it to matter. When I have earned yours in this regard then you will tell me what is in your heart.”

By the time they rejoined Porthos and Aramis in the main hall, the pair had begun to worry. They had not missed the fact that their youngest had been unnaturally quiet all throughout their meal. They had hoped Athos could get him to open up, but from the look on his face, he had not had much success as of yet.

Athos took up his customary seat on the divan, taking Aramis’ hand in his own without prompting. He looked at Porthos and considered everything they had accomplished and everything that still stretched before them. Deciding to take a page from Aramis’ book, he grinned shyly at the other man. “Porthos, may I kiss you?” he asked.

Aramis gasps at the unexpected question from Athos, especially with both he and D’Artagnan present. He felt a spike of arousal at the thought of watching the pair of them kiss then quickly pushed it down. This was about Athos and Porthos, not him. “If you would prefer to be alone…” Aramis said trailing off.

Athos shook his head. “No. I would have you here,” he replied then looked at D’Artagnan, letting the other man know that he would prefer it if he remained as well. A brief nod let him know that the younger man both understood his request and would comply. Turning back to Porthos, Athos looked at him awaiting his answer.

Porthos smiled at Athos, letting him know that he was happy to oblige. This time, however, he let Athos come to him, allowing the other man to set both the tone and pace of the interaction. He hoped, by letting Athos have control, it would prevent the man from panicking again.

Athos reached forward and fisted his hand in Porthos shirt. He pulled him forward until he was leaning over Aramis as before then he leaned forward and kissed him. Athos began slowly, simply pressing their mouths together as he had done with Aramis. When Porthos made no move to deepen the kiss, instead meeting Athos equally, Athos began to grow bolder. 

He swiped his tongue over Porthos lips, requesting entrance and moaned softly when it was granted. He moved slowly, mindful of his prior failure, but soon found himself kissing Porthos deeply, his tongue stroking over Porthos’ own and drawing a growl from the other man.

Porthos drew back at once, startled by the intensity of his reaction. He had not meant to lose himself to Athos’ kiss like that. “I’m sorry,” he said, embarrassed at his loss of control and worried that he might have frightened Athos again.

“Don’t be,” Athos said huskily as he pulled Porthos to him again and sealed their mouths together, kissing him hard and deep as they practically lay across Aramis’ lap.

Aramis could only moan helplessly at the sight of them as they kissed passionately mere inches away. Then their attention was zeroing in on him and he was being gently tugged into the middle of them and kissed. While Porthos took his mouth, cupping his face, Athos began kissing and mouthing along his neck, making Aramis shiver and gasp in want.

In no time at all Aramis was rock hard inside his breeches. The feel of both of his loves kissing and touching him while they absently touched and stroked each other as well was actually making him dizzy and he feared he might end up soiling his breeches if their onslaught continued much longer.

Across from the trio, D’Artagnan sat mesmerized. He had not expected to find the sight of his three friends so engaged with each other so arousing but there was no denying it. The state of his breeches gave mute testimony to his unabashed arousal if nothing else. His visceral reaction to their display only served to confuse him even more. As he had told them before, he was no innocent. He had seen men engaged in such activities before and have never had such an intense reaction. In truth, it had hardly aroused him in the slightest. But the sight of his three friends… the way they touched each other so carefully, intent on giving only pleasure… it touched something deep inside of him.

Not knowing how else to relieve the situation, and certain his friends would take no notice, D’Artagnan carefully slipped from the room. He had barely made it to the room he shared with Athos before he was tugging at the ties of his breeches and pulling himself out. In less time than he would have thought possible, he was biting his hand to stifle his cries and spending over his hand.

When he was finished, he sagged against the door and tried to catch his breath. He felt a wave of guilt over his actions. He had not meant to behave in such a way, but he had not asked to stay and watch them in such an intimate setting either. Admonishing himself not to do it again, he tucked himself away and cleaned up then went to rejoin them in the main hall, hoping they were still so lost in their passion that they had not noticed is absence.

He should have known there was no way he would be so lucky. As soon as he reentered the room, three sets of eyes were on him. All three were worried but Athos’ bordered on true panic and D’Artagnan hurried to reassure him. “All is well,” he said then cringed when he realized how inanae that sounded.

“Are you alright?” Athos asked rising and going to the younger man.

“I am fine,” he said. “I merely… needed a moment. That is all.”

“I am sorry…”

“Don’t,” D’Artagnan cut him off. “Please. You have nothing to apologize for.”

Athos searched his face and saw the silent plea for him to let this go, at least for now. He did not want to, but after all D’Artagnan had done for him, he felt he owed him this much at least. Tonight, when they were alone, he would question him again and make sure that no offence had been given. For now, however, he let it be. 

They spent the remainder of the night simply talking once more. D’Artagnan fetched more wine from the cellar for them and they talked of times past, sharing stories until late into the night. When it was time for bed, D’Artagnan was surprised when Athos made to accompany him. 

“You are not going with your lovers?” he asked boldly, causing Aramis and Porthos to pause in surprise. It was unlike the him to so openly question Athos, especially with an audience.

“I would spend the night with you, if you are amenable,” Athos replied. He wanted to speak to D’Artagnan about what all had happened, hoping he would be more open with him if they were alone.

“Why?” he asked with a frown. As much as he wanted to spend the night with Athos, as much as he cherished that time alone with him, he did not like this self-imposed distance he put between himself and his two lovers. 

Athos cocked his head, surprised at the challenge he saw in the other man’s eyes. “Because I enjoy spending the night with you,” he replied truthfully. “I have come to enjoy it and I find myself loathe to give it up. If you no longer with to do so, you have but to say and I shall leave you in peace.”

“You know that is not the case,” D’Artagnan told him. 

“Then what is it?” Athos asked.

“Aramis needs you,” he said as plainly as he knew how, even though it hurt him to say it. “This distance you keep from them hurts him. If you are doing this just for me, I would have you stop.”

“Oh Whelp,” Aramis said ruefully. “If you think he does this solely for your benefit then you are as blind as he is. Sleep well, brothers. Porthos and I shall see you in the morn.” With that, Aramis took Porthos by the hand and led him to their room. He closed the door behind them, making his expectations quite clear.

“Well,” Athos said. “Never let it be said that Aramis does not know how to be direct.”

D’Artagnan laughed softly and shook his head. “I am sorry. I did not mean to make a scene.”

“You did not,” Athos told him. “You did what you have been doing from the beginning, putting the needs of your brothers before your own. And while we appreciate it… *I* appreciate it… Aramis has Porthos with him. He will not lack for company or care this night. I would offer you the same. I know you are troubled and you do not have to speak of it if you do not wish to, but at least allow me to be near you to offer what comfort I can.”

“That is part of the problem,” D’Artagnan said as he entered their room and waited for Athos to follow. Once he was inside, he closed the door behind them and began getting ready for bed. “Your presence is more of a comfort to me than you realize.”

“And this is a bad thing?”

“It is when you have two lovers as it is, one of which is already jealous of the time we spend together,” he said flatly.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“Do you think the lad’ll be alright?” Porthos asked as he pulled Aramis into a comfortable position in the bed. 

“Depends.”

“On?”

“On whether or not he actually tells Athos what’s wrong,” Aramis replied.

“And do you know what’s wrong?” Porthos prompted.

“Not all of it, I don’t think,” Aramis said. “But I know part of the problem.”

“So what is it?”

“He’s… confused,” Aramis said. When Porthos merely frowned at him, he began to explain. “When I was talking to him earlier, asking him to help me get Athos alone, he said he knew I was jealous. I made some quip about this being where he told me I had nothing to worry about…”

“I take it he didn’t?” Porthos asked when Aramis fell silent.

“He said that this was where he did not lie to his friend,” Aramis told him. “And that he was not sure what he felt for Athos any longer. He then went on to say it did not matter since Athos already had you and I but…”

“But you think the boy’s in love with him.”

“Or well on his way to being,” Aramis admitted.

“And have you decided what you want to do about it?”

“I don’t know,” Aramis admitted, truthfully. “Part of me wants them as far apart as possible. I mean, look at him. He’s young and whole in ways I’ll never hope to be again and he loves Athos so much it’s hard to believe the man can’t see it.”

“I can talk to him,” Porthos offered. He did not want to, but he would do it for Aramis if that was what he wanted. 

“Do you truly believe I could be so selfish?” he asked. “The boy has done everything for us. How can I deny him his heart and still look myself in the eyes much less you or Athos? He already thinks his feelings are irrelevant. I will not add to that misconception.”

“You are a good man, love,” Porthos said as he hugged Aramis close. 

“No, I am not,” Aramis argued. “If I were a good man, I would never have made the lad think his feelings were unwelcome. But I will do my very best to rectify that mistake and make him see that his feelings are just as… as valid as any of ours.”


	31. Chapter 31

Part 31

Athos held his tongue until they had both settled into bed. “Turn on your side,” he instructed D’Artagnan. As soon as the other man had turned away from him, he had moved behind him, molding his body along D’Artagnan’s own and wrapping his arm firm around his middle to hold him in place. 

“Athos,” D’Artagnan gasped, stiffening at the feel of the other man pressed all along his back. It felt sinfully good and he had to bite his lip to keep from moaning aloud. 

“Please,” Athos whispered, his breath ghosting over D’Artagnan’s neck. “If we have finally overstepped ourselves with you, you have but to tell us.”

“It is not that,” D’Artagnan replied. “You have not given offense. Much the opposite, in fact.”

“I do not understand.”

“I found myself… moved by the sight of you all together,” he admitted, glad he was facing away from Athos so that the man could not see his face. “I had not expected to so… affected. The sight of men together had never had such an effect before. It took me by surprise is all.”

“And this troubles you?” Athos asked frowning. “That the sight of us so engaged brought you… pleasure?”

“Yes,” D’Artagnan said softly.

“Why?”

“Because it is not mine to have. I have no right to it. I should be grateful that I am allowed as far into your lives as I am. If I am greedy, if I try to take too much… Well, as I said, Aramis is already jealous. I have no desire to suddenly find myself cast out because I tried to take more than was my share.”

Athos was at a loss. He had no idea what to say to the younger man. He had not realized that he felt that way. Nor had he understood how precarious the young man felt his place with them was. Tightening his arm around him, Athos buried his face in the side of D’Artagnan’s neck and simply breathed for a moment. 

“Athos?” 

“I do not know what we have done… what I have done… to make you think that we would *ever* cast you out but if you tell me, I will do my very best to make amends.”

“You have done nothing.”

“Nothing? And yet you speak of asking for too much, of having no right, of being *grateful* for the crumbs you have been given as if you were our *dog* rather than our *brother*.”

D’Artagnan sucked in a shocked breath then forced Athos to let him go enough so that he could turn over and face the man. “I said no such thing!”

“You did!” Athos countered hotly. 

“You do not understand!” D’Artagnan all but snarled at him, his frustration mounting.

“Then make me understand it,” Athos challenged.

“I cannot lose you!” D’Artagnan stared at Athos. He had not meant to say that aloud but he could not take the words back now. “I cannot lose you,” he said again more quietly this time. “Aramis may be willing to share with Porthos but that is as far as his largess is likely to go. I know this. *You* know this. And I will not lose what I have of you for a… a fairy tale that will never be.”

Athos saw the determination in D’Artagnan’s eyes as well as the hopelessness. Unsure what else to do at the moment, he pulled the other’s head down onto his shoulder and held him. “You shall not lose me. Not any part of me. I give you my word.” He felt D’Artagnan start to protest and hushed him, refusing to allow him to argue. As he felt him start to relax, he made up his mind to speak with his lovers as soon as he could. Even if their relationship stayed as it was now, he would not allow D’Artagnan to continue to worry about his place with them. 

Sleep was a very long time in coming for Athos that night as he held his young friend in his arms. D’Artagnan’s words kept replaying in his mind and he had to wonder just what the other man’s feelings for him were. Before tonight, he would have surely called it the love of brothers. Now, though, he was not so sure. Worse yet, he was not sure if D’Artagnan himself even knew at this point.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Athos was not surprised when D’Artagnan bid them excuse him and made his way to the barn before the sun was even up. While it was unlike him to run, he understood the benefit of a strategic retreat in order to regroup. In any event, it served his purposes as he wished to speak with Aramis and Porthos about what D’Artagnan had told him and that would best be done with the lad safely out of earshot.

“Where’s the Whelp?” Porthos asked when he found Athos alone at the table.

“Barn,” he replied. “Or out riding. Either way, not here for the moment which is good as we three need to talk.”

Porthos and Aramis shared a glance then sat down across from Athos. As much as they would have preferred to be next to him, they understood his need to be able to see their faces when discussing something difficult and they had not doubts that whatever he felt they needed to talk about could be considered such.

“What is it?” Aramis prompted, wanting to get whatever bad news Athos had over and done with.

“D’Artagnan and I spoke at length last night,” he began. He was looking down at his hands that were clasped on the table rather than at his companions. 

“Tell us already, brother,” Porthos said when Athos fell silent once more. He could see how worked up Aramis was getting and had to admit that he was starting to worry himself.

“The reason he left the room, when we were all, um, together,” Athos said then paused. “It, well… it affected him a bit more than he anticipated.”

“Affected him?” Porthos repeated, not quite understanding.

“Oh,” Aramis said softly as Athos words suddenly made sense. “But, I thought… he said he did not prefer men that way.”

“Apparently we three are a bit of an exception to that rule,” Athos replied.

“I see,” Porthos said, understanding now what Athos had meant by affected. 

“But surely he did not think we would *mind*,” Aramis said. He thought back on D’Artagnan’s reaction when he had come back inside and grimaced.

“Ah, well,” Athos hedged. “I believe he thought *some* of us might mind a bit more than others.”

“You mean me,” Aramis said, hanging his head. 

“He knows you are… jealous,” Athos said as gently as he could. “And he does not wish to make that worse. He is quite worried, in fact, about making that worse. He is afraid…”

“Afraid?” Aramis queried, his head snapping up to look at Athos. 

Athos sighed in regret. He knew no easy way to say this that would not hurt his brothers as much as it had hurt him. “He is afraid that if he demands too much… tries to take more than his *share*… that we will send him away.”

“Dios,” Aramis gasped. “Surely… surely you are wrong, Athos. Surely you are mistaken. The lad knows…”

“I am afraid he knows no such thing, love,” Athos told him as gently as he could.

“I have done this,” Aramis whispered, the words coming out low and pained. “I did this with my fear and jealousy.”

“We aren’t blameless in this,” Porthos put in, relieved when Athos nodded his agreement.

“Porthos is correct,” Athos confirmed. “To use D’Artagnan’s words, he feels your largess will only go so far and he does not wish to lose what he has over something that he feels will never be.”

“My largess,” Aramis repeated with a derisive snort. “The boy is too kind by far. He bears my insults time and again without flinching. My largess. As if any of us would ever deny one another a piece of their heart.”

“I know,” Athos said. “But he is still young and this has been more of a trial for him than I think any of us have realized. At the moment, he is so unsure of himself that he does not even know what lies in his own heart. All he knows is that he will not risk his family. He will take whatever crumbs we throw him and *thank* us for them. It is up to us to show him otherwise.”

Aramis felt tears sting his eyes and leaned into Porthos beside him. “I am so sorry. If I had held my jealousy in check none of this would have happened.”

“You cannot change who you are, love,” Athos told him. 

“Perhaps not, but I did not have to make it so obvious. And I knew he was confused. He told me as much himself. He said he no longer knew what his feelings for you were but that it was irrelevant because you already had me and Porthos so… so there was no room for him anyway.”

“This isn’t all your fault, Aramis,” Porthos told him, hating the way Aramis was taking so much this onto himself. “This isn’t all just because you were jealous. Boy’s got more sense than that.”

“Not all my fault, no, but a goodly part of it is,” Aramis replied. “I will speak with him. I will try to undo the damage I have done but I fear it will take time. He has seen me use my pretty words to get my way too often to let them sway him with ease.”

“Then we’ll keep tellin’ him until he believes it,” Porthos said. “All of us.”

“Thank you,” Athos told them. He was genuinely relieved to know that his brothers were just as distressed about D’Artagnan as he was. It would make convincing the younger man of his worth to them a good deal easier.

“Athos, I need to ask you something and I need you to be as honest as you can,” Porthos began. 

Athos looked at him and nodded. He had a good idea about what Porthos wanted to ask but he had no idea of his answer.

“What *are* your feelings for the Whelp?” Porthos asked. He kept his tone as neutral as he could, not wanting Athos to feel pressured one way or the other. Aramis’ obvious jealousy was putting enough pressure on the man already.

“I am… unsure,” Athos said reluctantly. “Before last night I would have called it a brother’s love and believed it. Now… As you both know, I have been known to lie to myself about such things more than I should.”

“We know, brother,” Porthos said. “But you need to think about this. You need to be sure about this.”

“It is alright, you know,” Aramis said, his tone purposely light. “It is not like I do not know how it is to love more than one man. Or how it feels to discover that what you *thought* was the love of a brother was… not.”

Athos smiled at their encouragement, knowing how much it had cost Aramis to give it. “I have concerns,” he confided, hoping that his brothers could help in some way. “I do not wish to pressure him in this. He has already said that he does not, as a rule, prefer men in this way. I would not have him go against his nature even if he did find us to be the exception. And I do not want him to feel… obligated in any way. I have imposed upon him so much of late. I fear…”

“Have faith in the lad, Athos,” Porthos advised. “I do not believe he would give himself to you simply to please you. He would never betray your feelings like that.”

“I am sure you are right,” Athos agreed. He hesitated then decided to speak the last of his concerns. “There is one more thing that concerns me.”

“What is it?” Porthos asked.

“What happens if I do discover I have feelings for D’Artagnan? What then?” He looked at them both waiting for them to answer. 

“If you have feelings for our young Gascon, then we shall work it out,” Aramis told him, making his voice as resolute as he could. 

“And you can live with this?” Athos pressed. He had not been blind to Aramis’ jealousy. He knew it stemmed from some unreasonable fear that D’Artagnan could offer Athos something that he could not. But fear, in and of itself, was unreasonable and Athos knew this. 

“I will learn to,” Aramis said. “Because I would see neither you nor him unhappy. I love you very much, my Athos, and the lad is quite dear to me as well. Come what may, we shall work through it together. And we shall make sure our dear Whelp knows that his place by our side is not *negotiable*. It is not *transient*. It is not granted on them whim of another. It is as true and solid and permanent as the ties that bind the three of us.”


	32. Chapter 32

Part 32

While Athos thought it might be better if he were to wait until D’Artagnan returned to the house on his own, Aramis could not bring himself to. The idea of him thinking that he had to be careful around them, that he had to hide his true needs from them, in order for them to allow him to remain made him sick inside. 

Unable to stand the thought another moment, Aramis went in search of the younger man. He found him sitting on the pasture fence, watching the horses. He hesitated for a moment, not wishing to intrude on the other’s moment of peace.

D’Artagnan, however, had gained a Musketeer’s senses and he knew when he was being watched. Looking over his shoulder, he was surprised to see Aramis instead of Athos or Porthos. “Everything alright?” he asked as he turned back toward he pasture. 

“Not as such, no,” Aramis said as he moved to join him. He leaned against the fence rather than sitting atop it, leaving D’Artagnan the higher ground as it were. 

“What’s wrong?” He turned to face him, straddling the fence rail. Aramis did not seem alarmed so he doubted if anything were wrong with the others. That meant the problem was with him. A knot of dread formed in his stomach and D’Artagnan had to swallow against the sudden lump in his throat.

“A few things have been brought to my attention that I was unaware of,” Aramis began, choosing his words with utmost care. “First of all, that you think we would ever cast you aside like… like garbage… breaks my heart and shames me more than I can say. You are our brother, D’Artagnan. No matter what else, *that* will never change.”

D’Artagnan stared down at him, letting Aramis’ words sink in. He could see the hurt in the other man’s eyes and wanted to believe him, but he was wary. He knew just how good of a liar Aramis could be and while he did not like to think he would lie to him, he knew he would do just about anything to make Athos happy.

Aramis could see his doubt and felt a fresh stab of guilt over it. He pushed it aside for now. He would pray about that later, for now he had D’Artagnan to see to. “Later,” he began again, forcing his voice to remain even, “when I can bear to hear it, you will tell me what all I have done to make you think such a thing so that I can make sure that I never do so again. But for now, we have other things we need to speak of.

“I know you are still confused about your feelings for Athos. That is quite understandable. And your feelings, D’Artagnan, they are important. They are just as important as any of ours.” Aramis frowned when the younger man looked away, shaking his head in disagreement.

“Yes, they are,” he insisted. “Do you truly believe I would be so cruel as to deny either of you the love of the other? Do you not know how very much we… *I* care for you? It may not take on the same form as my feelings for Athos and Porthos but nonetheless, it is there.”

“I have no wish to cause problems between you,” D’Artagnan told him. “He has only just begun to accept the idea of having such a relationship with both Porthos as well as you. I will not cause him further anguish needlessly.”

“You are as stubborn as the rest of us,” Aramis grumbled. “D’Artagnan, if you want a relationship with Athos then neither I nor Porthos will stand in your way regardless of how jealous I may have acted before. And we shall help you in any way we can if you but ask it of us.”

D’Artagnan sighed and regarded Aramis carefully. He could see the sincerity in the man’s eyes and wanted badly to believe him. “I shall think about it,” he said. It was the most he could offer at the moment.

“Good enough,” Aramis replied. “Just remember, we are your brothers. Your place by our side will not change regardless of your decision in this.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“Think Aramis’ll be able to get through to him?” Porthos asked once he and Athos were alone.

“No,” Athos answered honestly if a little sadly. “But that he was willing to try is a good start.”

“Is there anything I can do to try an’ make this easier on you?” He hated seeing Athos hurting. Even before their trial at the ruined church he had hated seeing either of his brothers in pain.

“Kiss me?” Athos prompted, hoping to chase his darker thoughts away with the feel of Porthos in his arms again.

“Gladly,” Porthos grinned. His smiled widened when Athos stood and moved around the table toward him. He took the proffered hand and let himself be pulled to his feet. Then Athos was fisting his shirt tightly and pulling him into a kiss.

Athos moaned softly against Porthos’ lips when he felt the man’s hands settle on his hips. He let his tongue gently swipe at them and was pleased when Porthos opened his mouth to allow him access. He wasted no time in pushing his tongue inside and stroking along Porthos’ own, relishing the growl it produced as well as the tightening of the man’s hands on his hips.

Athos pulled back a bit then, just enough to let him take Porthos’ bottom lip between his teeth. He bit down gently, careful not to hurt and was gratified by the instantaneous reaction it provoked as Porthos pulled him flush against his body, his hands tight enough to bruise on his hips.

Athos could feel Porthos’ hardness against his hip and pushed against it. He could feel actually feel Porthos’ growl as it rumbled out of his chest and Athos could not stop his answering moan as he released Porthos’ lip to slip his tongue back inside the man’s mouth. 

His own member was hard and aching in his breeches and he knew Porthos could feel it digging into his thigh as he practically ground them together. Without warning, Porthos pulled his head away from Athos’ frantic kiss and took a step back, putting a scant few inches between their bodies.

“What? What’s wrong?” Athos asked, confused as to why Porthos was suddenly pushing him away. He looked about to see if perhaps Aramis had returned but they were still alone. Frowning, he turned back to Porthos and watched as he fought to control himself.

“Nothing’s wrong, love,” Porthos said once he was calm enough to talk. “Just… just didn’t want to move too fast, that’s all.”

Athos smiled at him then, pleased and chagrinned. “When I said you might have to take things slowly, I did not mean for us to grow old before sharing more than a few kisses,” he teased.

Porthos laughed and pulled him back into his arms. “We have plenty of time,” he assured him. “Besides, might be best if Aramis was here before we go much farther.”

“And why is that?” Athos asked.

“Just… bein’ cautious, I guess,” Porthos shrugged. 

“Cautious?”

“Long as Aramis is here, not much chance of me losin’ control and pushin’ you too far,” Porthos explained. 

“Porthos, that is not necessary. I trust you,” Athos told him. “You do not need Aramis to act as your restraint.”

“Maybe not,” Porthos relented. “But it couldn’t hurt. I don’t want to mess this up. It’s too important. You’re too important to take a chance like that. So you’re gonna let me be… cautious… at least for now.”

“Very well,” Athos agreed. He did not see the necessity of it but he would agree to it if it made things easier for Porthos. Besides, it was not like he had not used Porthos for the very same thing where Aramis was concerned.

As luck would have it, they did not have to wait for long for Aramis to rejoin them. 

“Any luck with the lad?” Porthos asked when Aramis entered the room. He and Athos were lounging on the divan together, each enjoying the closeness of the other.

“A bit,” Aramis said. “Not nearly as much as I would have liked. He doubts my words and I cannot say that I blame him. But I have made a start at least. And, for the moment, he is considering things.”

“Then come and join us,” Athos said, holding his hand out to Aramis, “and let us occupy ourselves with much more pleasant activities for a time.”

Aramis smiled widely and let Athos pull him down between him and Porthos. He knew the situation with D’Artagnan would not resolve itself, but for now, he was content to enjoy the feel of his lovers wrapped around him.

They kept things relaxed, sharing simply touches and caresses between them. It was nice to simply *be* together, all three of them. Eventually, Athos decided to broach a subject he had been wanting to but had not felt the time right.

“Aramis,” he whispered as he stroked the man’s arm idly.

“Hmm?”

“I would very much like to make love to you,” Athos told him then practically held his breath as he waited for Aramis’ reply.

Aramis was stunned at Athos’ admission. For several moments he did not reply. A gentle nudge from Porthos broke him from his stupor and he beamed at Athos. “I can think of nothing I would like more,” he told him.

Athos blew out a breath and hugged Aramis tightly. “I… I have two conditions,” he said.

“Anything,” Aramis replied making Athos huff out a laugh.

“First, I would have Porthos there with us, if he is amenable.”

“Brother?” Porthos queried, concerned. He had no qualms against being with them for their first time together but he was unsure why Athos would want such a thing. He would have surely thought that Athos, as private as he was, would want that experience between the two of them alone.

“I would have you with us,” Athos explained. “Because we are in this together and, well, for much the same reason you wished Aramis with us before we went further.”

“Athos,” Porthos sighed. 

“The concern is warranted,” Athos insisted. “Aramis has had a difficult past. I will not cause him pain in this, be it physical or emotional. With you there, the chance of either is greatly reduced.”

“Very well,” Porthos agreed. “But only because I am a selfish bastard that would very much like to share that experience with you.”

“And what is your second condition?” Aramis asked, wanting to know what else would need to happen before he and Athos could consummate their love.

“I would prefer to be the one being… that is… the one being penetrated,” he finally managed to get out.

“Athos, you do not have to…”

“I want to,” Athos said, cutting him off. “I feel the need to prove, to myself if no one else, that I am capable of this. While I do not mean to use you as an experiment by any means, I know that if I… well, if I cannot submit myself to you, what hope have I of being able to submit myself to Porthos in such a manner.”

“Athos, brother, you don’t ever have to give yourself to me that way, not if you don’t want to,” Porthos told him. 

“And if I do want to?” Athos challenged. 

“Then we shall help you, of course,” Aramis said. “But I do not see how allowing me such a privilege will help you in this.”

“Trust that I believe it will,” Athos told him. When he saw Aramis’ continued skepticism, he continued. “That is not my only reason. I know that there are still demons in your past, Aramis, and I never want my touch to remind you of that time.”

“Now you are simply being foolish. I could never mistake your caring touch for… that time. And you have nothing to prove to either of us. We accept you as you are, Athos, and are glad to have you.”

“Perhaps I have something to prove to myself,” Athos replied.

Aramis threw up his hands in exasperation. “This is ridiculous. Porthos, tell him this is ridiculous!”

“And if… if I have… have desired… such a thing?” Athos stammered, looking away to try to hide the faint blush to his cheeks that his words caused.

“What?” Aramis gasped.

“Is it really so hard to believe that I have dreamt… have imagined… being… being under you?”

Aramis opened his mouth to protest further but Porthos was quicker. “No,” he said. “It is not hard to believe and there is nothing wrong with such desires. If that is what you wish, what you truly desire, then you shall have it, brother.”

Aramis snapped his mouth close and shot Porthos a glare but he did not contradict him. He was right, after all. If this was what Athos wanted, then he would not deny him. And if it helped Athos to be able to be with Porthos in some way, then he would consider it a blessing.

“Thank you, my loves,” Athos told them.

“When do you wish to do this?” Porthos asked.

“Tomorrow night, perhaps?” Athos suggested. “I admit I am still worried for D’Artagnan and feel we could all do with some time to think things through first.”

“Agreed,” Aramis said gratefully, wanting some time to prepare himself so he could make it as good or Athos as he possibly could. And maybe, by tomorrow, their Whelp would have come to some decision as well.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Outside, D’Artagnan had moved from the pasture fence to the barn. He began working on another of their saddles, letting the repetitive work soothe him as he thought about everything Aramis had said to him. 

He thought about his feelings for Athos and was greeted by a whirling maelstrom of emotions that ranged from friendship to brotherhood to lust and left him feeling confused and off-center. Knowing he was getting nowhere, he tried a different tract and thought of Athos in very specific situations.

He first thought of Athos smiling at him, like he did in the practice yard when he had pulled off a new move. That look never failed to make his stomach flutter and his cheeks flush in pride. From there, he tried for something more personal and thought of Athos in the bed they had been sharing of late. 

The image of the other man, in nothing but his small clothes, relaxed beside him made D’Artagnan feel both privileged and protective all at once. As he continued to study that image in his head, he noticed another feeling – lust. While Athos may not be the suave beauty that Aramis was, D’Artagnan still found him… nice… to look at. He felt himself blush at the thought and scolded himself for his lack of honesty. He did not simply find Athos nice to look at, he found him beautiful. Maybe not in the same way that Aramis was beautiful, but beautiful all the same. 

Once he admitted that much to himself, it was easy for him to recognize the lust he had felt for the man but had attempted to subvert into feelings of friendship and brotherhood. As he thought of his lust for Athos, he began to imagine him in certain ‘other’ situations. He imagined him waking up, sleep-tousled and hard, but instead of recoiling, this time he imagined Athos taking himself in hand. 

The bolt of lust that slammed through D’Artagnan at that thought nearly made him drop the saddle he was working on. He was hard and straining in his breeches and had to press the heel of his hand against himself to try to calm down. 

He thought, for a moment, about trying to distance himself from Athos the way he had attempted to distance himself from Aramis and Porthos, but he knew he would never be able to. It would hurt too much and, worse still, it would hurt *Athos* too much. And that was something he would never willingly do.

However, even after everything Aramis had said, D’Artagnan could not help but feel he was overstepping himself. The last thing he wanted was to do something that might jeopardize Athos’ relationship with either Aramis or Porthos. He would sooner walk away himself than do that to any of them.

D’Artagnan thought he understood now how Porthos had felt toward Aramis in the beginning. He was in a trust position with Athos, just as Porthos had been with Aramis. And, like Porthos, he was loath to abuse that trust. 

In the end, D’Artagnan knew he would have to try. To do nothing would be the act of a coward and he would dishonor neither himself nor Athos in such a way. He knew there was a very good chance they could end up deciding to remain as nothing more than brothers, but he could live with that. Mind made up, he decided that he would speak with Athos and see if the man was amenable to finding out what might be between them.


	33. Chapter 33

Part 33

By the time D’Artagnan returned to the house he was exhausted. He has spent the better part of the day going over everything again and again, weighing the pros and cons, trying to make sure his decision was a sound one. He wanted to try, assuming of course that Athos was willing as well, but he refused to put the relationship they had now at risk.

He was not at all surprised to find his three brothers ensconced in the main hall when he came in. He offered them a rather tired smile and held up his hand to stop Athos from getting up when he made to.

“Forgive me for not joining you all tonight,” he said tiredly. “I think I shall retire early. Good night, brothers.” With that, he headed to the room he shared with Athos. Once inside, he hesitated then locked the door behind him. He wanted a bit more time to himself and, in truth, he thought it was high time that Athos spent the evening with his actual lovers. 

The trio spent a bit longer together before deciding to retire as well. Athos had been distracted ever since D’Artagnan had returned. The younger man’s continued subdued countenance had them all concerned and it was obvious that Athos wished to speak with him.

Aramis and Porthos bid him good night and retired to their own room. They were surprised when, a few minutes later, Athos came in. He somehow managed to look both annoyed and dejected at the same time and the result was rather disconcerting.

“What happened?” Porthos asked.

“He locked the door,” Athos said. He wasn’t sure if he was more angry or vexed and his uncertainty showed.

“I would not worry about it too much,” Aramis said as he came to him. “He likely just wanted a bit more time to think and did not feel up to answering any questions as of yet.”

“I am sure you are right,” Athos said, though his tone said anything but. 

“I can take another room,” Porthos offered, thinking perhaps that Athos might feel more comfortable with just Aramis.

“No,” Athos said quickly and actually grabbed hold of Porthos’ shirt in an attempt to keep him there with them. “It is not that I do not wish to spend the night with you. With *both* of you, for I do. Very much so.”

“But you have grown accustomed to having the lad with you,” Porthos surmised. “We can understand that. Even before all of this, you know I always slept better with Aramis tucked up against my side.”

“And we understand that you are still coming to grips with your own feelings for him,” Aramis said. 

Athos knew they were correct and was thankful once more for his friends’ understanding, both of his nature and the rather complicated turns their lives seemed to have taken of late. Pulling Porthos closer still, he reached forward and grabbed Aramis’ arm so he could pull him close as well. Soon he was bracketed by his lovers with Porthos’ strong arms circling him from behind and Aramis pressed against his front nuzzling into his neck as he carded his fingers through his hair.

“You’re stayin’ here with us tonight,” Porthos whispered into the ear that Aramis wasn’t occupying. “And you’re lettin’ us take care of you tonight. You been so worried about everyone else with no one but the Whelp to help hold you up; it’s time to let us do that again.”

Athos shuddered at the combination of Porthos’ words and the feel of his breath ghosting hotly across is skin. He thought about arguing, saying he did not need such coddling, but… he did. Or at least, he wanted it. And he knew, if he needed this then his lovers needed to *give* him this just as badly if not more so. “Please,” he begged, letting go of his pride and allowing his lovers to see his need.

He heard Aramis suck in a breath and then the man was kissing along his neck, sucking and biting at the skin just hard enough to sting and send jolts of desire all through him. Behind him, Porthos gripped him tightly then let his hands move down to his hips again, settling them in the same place he had during their earlier encounter, making Athos moan at the slight ache as Porthos pressed into the bruises Athos just knew had to be there.

Athos felt his legs grow weak as the two men continued their assault. He could feel Porthos’ hardness pressing into him from behind and could not help but push back into it. The growl he earned along with the sudden tightening of the hands on his hips let Athos know just how much he had affected the bigger man and he smiled before moaning once more as Aramis began an inspired attack right where his neck met his shoulder.

“We need to move this to the bed before we end up in the floor,” Porthos ground out. He could feel Athos getting shakier by the minutes and his own control was holding on by a thread what with both his lovers practically writhing against him.

It was with a great deal of reluctance that Aramis gave up his hold on Athos and stepped back. When he looked at the other two men he felt a sharp stab of lust at the looks of outright want on both their faces. Wanting to get back to touching them as quickly as possible, Aramis began to strip out of his clothes, casting an impatient eye at the other two when they simply stood and watched him rather than stripping out of their own.

“Is there a reason you two are simply standing there and not removing your very inconvenient clothing with alacrity?” Aramis asked as he was unlacing his breeches. He was almost down to his small clothes while the two still stood there watching him.

“Because you are sinfulness personified,” Porthos said, “and we can’t help but want to watch you.”

“He is right,” Athos said when Aramis looked at them and scowled. “You are beautiful and we never tire of looking at you.”

Aramis found himself blushing a bit and shook his head at his lovers. “You two,” he lamented. “Would you rather watch me or touch me?”

“He’s got a point there,” Porthos said as he released Athos and began working at his own clothes.

Athos chuckled but began to disrobe as well. Aramis did have a point, he would much rather be touching that beautiful body than simply looking at it. Soon all three men were down to their small clothes and they paused before getting into the bed, not quite sure how to situate the three of them. 

“Aramis prefers not to be penned in against the wall,” Porthos said as he moved to get in first. He tugged Athos in after him so that he would be in the middle and so that Aramis would have the outside of the bed.

Once they were comfortable, Aramis and Porthos wasted no time in renewing their assault on Athos, intent on giving him as much pleasure as he could stand. While Porthos kissed his mouth, careful to keep his enthusiasm in check to some degree, Aramis went back to Athos’ neck and began trailing sucking kisses down it until he reached his collar bone where he began to lathe and suck, intent on putting a visible mark upon the man.

Athos did his best to reciprocate. He returned Porthos’ kisses with equal intensity, knowing he was holding himself back and attempting to embolden him further. At the same time, he stroked along Aramis’ back and ran his fingers through his hair as he practically worshipped Athos’ body with his lips and tongue and teeth.

“Tell us what you want, love,” Porthos urged when he released Athos’ mouth enough to speak.

Aramis had moved down from his collar bone to his chest and was making his way steadily to Athos’ nipple. It made it nearly impossible for Athos to think as he writhed between them. Taking pity on him, and wanting to know the answer as well, Aramis drew back and allowed Athos a moment to collect himself. “Tell us,” he prompted once the fog had cleared from Athos’ eyes a bit.

“I… I don’t know,” Athos said, at a loss. “I don’t care. Just… touch me…”

“We can do that,” Porthos said quickly. He did not want Athos to get overwhelmed trying to put a name to his desires. This much was enough for now. He shared a quick look with Aramis to make sure they were both in agreement and then they were touching him again, Porthos kissing him deeply as he pressed his body all along his side while Aramis leaned down and began to suckle at his nipple.

Athos arched his back and cried against Porthos’ lips when he felt Aramis’ mouth on him there. The sensations went straight to his groin and he could not help but thrust his hips up seeking contact. Aramis moaned at the reaction he had produced and redoubled his efforts, licking and nibbling on the small bud until Athos whined and tugged at his head.

Porthos had to bite back his own moans at the sounds Athos made. He wanted to grind his hardness against the man’s hip but forced himself to remain as still as he could, only pressing his body against Athos’ lightly. He could feel Athos shaking between them and silently wondered how much more the man could take before simply coming apart. The thought along was enough to make Porthos grab onto Athos’ hip hard and hold him while he took his mouth as thoroughly as possible.

“Dios,” Aramis gasped as he pulled back, his own body aching for attention. He looked down at the sight of Athos whimpering in need as Porthos held him and kissed him and Aramis found he could not wait any longer. He began unlacing Athos’ small clothes with shaking hands, trusting one of them to stop him if he tried to go too far. When neither of them did, he quickly pulled them open and freed Athos erection. 

“Would you like one of us to suck you?” Aramis asked shakily. He wanted to do that, wanted to give that to Athos but he had never done that before and was not at all sure he could.

Porthos jerked himself away from Athos to stare down at where Aramis had bared him. He looked back up to Athos’ face and saw only desire reflected back at them. “You want that, love?” he asked, needing to be sure. “You want me to suck you?”

“Please,” Athos begged again. He would take anything they were willing to give him. He wanted them both so much.

“Shhh,” Porthos soothed. “You don’t have to beg. You don’t ever have to beg with us.”

“I can…” Aramis began but Porthos stopped him.

“Let me this time,” he said gently. He knew Aramis wanted to do this but Athos was simply too strung out. Another time, when they were all a bit more in control, Aramis could give it a try, but not right now.

They switched places a bit then with Aramis moving up to share kisses with Athos while Porthos moved further down his body. Athos was hard as steel when Porthos wrapped his hand around the base of his cock to steady him then Athos was crying out into Aramis’ mouth as Porthos took him into his own for the first time.

At the feel of that hot, wet mouth on his straining erection, Athos could not stop himself from bucking up hard. Luckily, Porthos had been expecting it and had moved with him, keeping him from accidentally being choked. He took hold of Athos’ hips then and pressed them into the mattress as he began to suck him in earnest, bobbing his head up and down, taking him in a bit further on each downward stroke. 

Athos tried to move thrust his hips up but Porthos’ strong hands held him easily in place. Aramis kissed him deeply, thrusting his tongue into Athos’ mouth even as Athos tried to thrust himself into Porthos’. Athos had a moment to think he should be mortified at the sounds he was making but then Porthos did something with his tongue and he no longer cared how much noise he was making.

For his part, Aramis thought the sounds Athos was making would tempt a saint. Or a eunuch. If this lasted much longer, he knew he was in imminent danger of soiling yet another set of small clothes but he did not much care. Not if it meant he got to hear Athos making those wonderful sounds of pleasure along with the sounds of Porthos sucking him wetly.

Suddenly, Athos whole body seemed to seize and he nearly screamed against Aramis’ mouth as his orgasm slammed through him. It had taken him so completely by surprise that he had not even been able to warn Porthos and could only attempt to thrust and moan as he spent himself inside his lover’s mouth.

When it was finally over, Porthos pulled off and gently tucked him back into his small clothes. He grimaced when he saw the finger shaped bruises on Athos’ hips, realizing they were from earlier and knowing that he had only added to them. He made a mental note to apologize about that later when Athos could actually string a coherent thought together.

Before he lay back down beside the other two, he pulled off his own soiled small clothes and threw them off the side of the bed. He smiled a bit ruefully at Aramis when the man quirked an eyebrow at him. “Couldn’t help it, could I?” he said. “Not with him moanin’ and writhin’ and all.”

“You were not the only one,” Aramis said as he, too, gingerly removed his soiled garments and tossed them aside with Porthos’ making the man laugh. “When he began to spend and I knew you still had him in your mouth… I could not help myself.”

“I… I can’t… I had not…” Athos tried to speak, but trailed off. “You both…”

“Hush now,” Porthos told him. “We’re good. Seeing you like that, knowing we made you feel that good. That… that was a gift.”

“Listen to Porthos,” Aramis said as he snuggled down into Athos’ side. 

Porthos did the same on the other side, pulling the blanket up as he did so and tucking it around the three of them. Sooner than any of them would have thought they were asleep, wrapped together safeguarding each other from anything that might try to hurt them.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

The three men found D’Artagnan already in the main all when they arose the next morning. He looked at them and grinned and they visibly relaxed. He still had something on his mind but at least he appeared to be closer to his usual self. 

“You three seem well rested,” he said as they joined him.

“It was a good night,” Athos replied. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad,” D’Artagnan replied. “If any men ever deserved to find happiness, it is you three.”

“You as well, young one,” Aramis said softly, reminding D’Artagnan that his needs were equally valid.

He inclined his head but did not reply and looked carefully at Athos. He could tell that something had changed within their relationship last night, something significant. He supposed Athos would tell him of it later. Or perhaps he would not. It was not exactly his business after all. 

“D’Artagnan, are you alright?” Athos asked when the younger man’s silent scrutiny got to be too much.

“I am well,” he answered. “I would speak with you, if you would not mind.”

“Of course,” Athos said. “Should we take this somewhere else?”

D’Artagnan thought for a moment then shook his head. “No,” he said. “It concerns your lovers, after all. It would only be right for them to be here as well.”

“Then speak your mind, lad,” Porthos said. He was getting tired of watching the boy hide behind his formality. He had learned that particular trick from Athos. It was annoying when Athos did it and it was even more annoying when the Whelp did it.

“I have given a great deal of thought to everything Aramis said to me,” he began. “I assume, of course, that he already told you what all we spoke of.” At their nods he took a deep breath and continued. “Athos, I would like to know what there is between us. What there could be. If you are amenable, that is.”

Athos paused, thinking his words over carefully. “I do not know what this thing is between us,” he said. “But I know it is more than brotherhood. I think I have known that for a while but I have been afraid of what it could mean. You are very dear to me, D’Artagnan, and I would not risk what there is between us for anything. There is also Aramis and Porthos to consider. I was not at all sure how they would take such a thing and, well…”

Athos looked at his lovers then and marveled at the encouragement and understanding he saw in their eyes. He did not know what he had ever done to deserve such men as these but he would dedicate the rest of his life to being worthy of them. 

“As I said, I was not at all sure how they would react and I was afraid,” Athos continued. “But my dear brothers reminded me of something I had forgotten. They reminded me that, above all else, we *are* brothers. We stand beside each other. And, while I can make you no promises as I do not fully know my own heart in this regard, I would find out what there is between us as well.”

“Even if all I am ever able to count you as is my brother, I will still be more thankful than I can say,” D’Artagnan said. 

“Come here,” Athos said and pulled D’Artagnan into an embrace. He held the younger man in his arms until he felt him relax and slip his own arms around his waist as they had held each other many times before. Pulling back slightly, Athos looked at him for a moment then leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

D’Artagnan inhaled sharply at the feel of Athos’ lips on his. He made himself be still, responding to the kiss but not deepening it just as he had seen Porthos do. He was, after all, aware of all Athos had been through and of how little experience he had with men, though he thought that experience might have been greatly expanded upon of late. Still, he would take things at Athos’ pace and trust in his brothers.


	34. Chapter 34

Part 34

Later that morning, Athos took D’Artagnan’s hand and led him outside to the barn. He wanted to talk with him, to explain about how things had changed between him and his two other lovers. He felt D’Artagnan had a right to know, especially if they were going to attempt to have something between them. Luckily, Aramis and Porthos agreed with him so he did not have to feel as if he were betraying a confidence by speaking of such intimate things with the other man.

“You are different today,” D’Artagnan commented once they were in the relative privacy of the barn.

“I feel different,” Athos agreed.

“Things have… progressed?” he asked carefully, not wanting to pry or overstep himself.

“Yes,” Athos smiled. “Not fully but… yes.”

“You do not have to say more,” D’Artagnan assured him.

“I want to,” Athos said. “Unless you would rather not hear of such things.”

“No. I would know everything of you, even this. But I am not sure your other lovers would appreciate me having such knowledge of them.”

“They understand,” Athos told him. He was both grateful and proud that D’Artagnan was even yet looking after the best interests of all of them. “And they would not have me hide such things from… my lover.”

D’Artagnan felt himself start at Athos’ reference to him as his lover. He pulled him close and held him then kissed him softly. “Then tell me what you would, as much or as little as you feel the need.”

Athos told him then, in fits and starts and with a great deal of blushing on both their parts. By the time he had finished, they were both breathing hard and straining in their breaches. “There is but one more thing,” Athos managed.

“Tell me,” D’Artagnan implored. 

“I have spoken with them of my desire to make love with Aramis,” he said. “Or to have *him* make love to *me*, I should say.”

“You have?” D’Artagnan groaned as images of the two of them together came unbidden to his mind. 

Athos nodded and swallowed. “He… We… Do you…” He did not know what question he was trying to ask and his words came out in a jumble.

“I do not mind, if that is what you are asking,” he replied. “Will Porthos be nearby?”

“He will be there,” Athos told him. “It was one of my conditions. I… do not altogether trust myself and do not wish to cause Aramis harm. If Porthos is there, the chance of that is much smaller.”

“You will understand if, while I am concerned for Aramis’ well-being, I am more concerned for yours. That said, I am relieved to know he will be at hand. I am sure he will be watching both of you for any signs of distress and will intervene if necessary.”

“You worry for me entirely too much,” Athos responded fondly. 

“Is that not what brothers do?” 

“Indeed.”

His ardor finally calmed some, D’Artagnan found himself able to release Athos and take a step back. He glanced about the barn and came to a decision. He knew the other three would be hesitant to go ahead with Athos’ wishes with him there. If for no other reason than they would not wish him to feel excluded and he was not at all sure he was ready to witness them to *that* degree just yet. 

“If I leave now, I can be back at the garrison before night fall,” he said.

“What?” Athos asked in alarm. He stepped forward and gripped D’Artagnan’s arms tightly.

“Peace, Athos,” the younger man said. “I mean only to give the Captain an update on how we are faring. Nothing more. I will spend the night there, replenish any supplies we need, and be back by mid-day.”

Athos relaxed somewhat at the other man’s words but not completely. He did not like the idea of D’Artagnan riding back alone. His dislike of the idea must have shown on his face because the younger man smiled at him and stroked along his jaw.

“I will be fine, I promise,” he said. “Let me give you this.”

“Alright. But if you are not back by mid-day, we shall all three come looking for you.”

“I will be back; you have my word on it.”

The three of them watched as D’Artagnan rode off toward the garrison alone. Aramis and Porthos had not liked the idea any more than Athos had but they had not tried to stop him. They would give him until mid-day tomorrow to return. If he was not safely back with them by then, they would go and bring him home themselves.

Pushing any niggling worry for their youngest away, they returned to the house. Athos understood the gift that D’Artagnan was trying to give them – privacy to explore their bond and take it where they would without any concerns outside of the three of them.

“If you both are still willing, I would very much like to… to go ahead with the plans we had discussed,” Athos said once they were back inside.

“Are you sure?” Aramis asked a bit nervously.

“Very,” Athos told him. It was true. He was quite sure he wanted to do this. He was, however, not altogether sure he would be able to. 

“Then why don’t you two head back to our room,” Porthos said. “I’ll be along in just a moment. I need to gather a few things.”

“Alright, but do not be long,” Athos told him with a grin. “You know how impatient Aramis can be.”

Porthos laughed out loud and shooed them toward their room then went into the kitchen in search of the things they were going to need. He found a bottle of oil in the pantry then filled a basin with water and gathered a few towels. He did not want them to have to leave their room afterward and knew they would need to be able to clean up for any of them, especially Athos, to be able to rest comfortably. 

By the time he entered their room, both men were down to just their breaches. They were standing next to the bed, arms wrapped around each other and kissing languidly. They broke apart when Porthos entered but did not release each other completely. The sight of them so entwined together sent a bolt of desire through Porthos and he gripped the basin in his hands tightly to keep from dropping it.

“See something you like, brother?” Aramis asked, his voice low and husky with desire.

“Always,” Porthos replied, his own voice coming out strained.

“Then join us,” Athos said and held his hand out to him.

That was enough for him. Porthos set the basin and towels down on the armoire and moved into their arms. He felt two arms encircle his waist, one from each of them and leaned down to kiss first Athos then Aramis. 

“This is supposed to be about you two,” Porthos said after tasting each of their kisses several times.

“No,” Athos told him. “I would have it be about all three of us. As much as it can be at any rate.”

“You do not have to do that,” Porthos said. “This can be just for the two of you. I am not so greedy that I cannot give you this.”

“We know,” Athos said. He smiled at him, soft and gentle, and stroked his face. “You would give us everything if only we would let you. But I want this to be for us all.”

“Whatever you wish, brother,” Porthos told him. He looked at Aramis then, suddenly worried that while Athos might want this to be about all of them, Aramis might be of another mind.

“All is well, Porthos,” he said. “I would have this be for all of us as well. I love you both so dearly, to do this in any other way would seem incomplete to me.”

“We need to be naked now,” Porthos told them, unable to hold himself in check any longer. 

“Well, you heard him,” Aramis grinned making Athos huff out a laugh. They broke apart then and shed the rest of their clothes. Once they were naked, they clambered back onto the bed. Porthos made sure to retrieve the small bottle of oil before moving over against the wall and making room for the others.

“And that is for?” Aramis asked as he slid onto the bed after Athos.

Porthos paused for a moment, taken off guard by Aramis’ question. Then he realized he probably should not have been. “To ease the way,” he explained. 

Aramis frowned for a moment then caught Porthos’ meaning and blushed hotly. “Forgive me,” he muttered. “I am not used to being so naïve.”

“No worries,” Athos assured him. “But it is a very good reason why our Porthos should be here with us for this, as neither you nor I know what we are doing in this as of yet.”

“Agreed,” Aramis said. “And I have no wish to cause you any discomfort. I am sure Porthos can guide us so that does not happen.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Porthos promised them both. “Now, as much as I’d love to just get right back to what we were doing, I think we need to talk a bit first.”

“If we must,” Aramis groused more for show than anything else.

Porthos shook his head at him then turned his attention to Athos. “Pretty sure we both know how much Aramis knows about this kind of thing. What about you, Athos? I know you’ve never done this before but how much do you know about the mechanics?”

“I know some of it,” he replied. “I know oil or some other substance is generally required to keep the man from being unduly injured. And that it can be quite painful the first few times.”

Porthos scowled at Athos’ words and had to bite back a growl. “Brother, I don’t know the kind of men you…” He stopped and took a breath then another before he felt calm enough to go on. “I don’t know where you learned that from but if you point him out to me I’ll gladly splatter his insides all over the walls.”

“Porthos?” Athos queried. He did not know why his friend was reacting so angrily to what he had said. He had not inferred that he had even been touched in such a way. 

“I’m sorry,” Porthos said. “I’m not upset with you. Look, first of all, oil or some other slick is *always* required. Always. That’s not optional. Not unless you *want* to well and truly brutalize the man you’re with.

“Second, it does *not* have to hurt. Not even the first time. Not if the man you’re with takes his time and does it right. It can feel… different… strange, maybe. It might leave you feeling sore afterward, but there shouldn’t be any actual pain.”

Porthos stopped and waited for his words to sink in. He would love to get his hands on whatever man had led Athos to believe that this sort of thing had to be painful. He turned to say something to Aramis and froze. Aramis had grown pale and was looking at both of them with wide eyes. 

“Aramis? Brother?” Porthos called and reached for him.

Aramis shrank back from him and then turned his full attention to Athos. “You… you would have… even if… even thinking…”

“Aramis, calm yourself,” Athos said, using his steadiest command voice. “Just breathe.”

They waited as Aramis struggled to regain his control. After several trembling breaths, he managed to get himself under control enough to reach out and take each of their hands in one of his own. 

“Talk to us, love,” Porthos said. 

“I am sorry,” Aramis apologized. “I just cannot fathom why you would want to… to endure such a thing if you knew it would bring you pain.”

Understanding dawned on Athos and he gripped Aramis’ hand tighter. “It would not have been simply enduring for me. And I knew you would not cause me more pain than was necessary.”

“But…”

“To me, it would have been worth it,” Athos insisted. “You are worth everything to me. The thought of a little pain is not enough to deter me from being with you.”

Aramis turned beseeching eyes to Porthos. “Please tell me you know how to do this without hurting him. I can’t… I won’t…”

“Hush, love,” Porthos said. “I know what to do. It most definitely does not have to hurt. If it does, then we’re rushin’ it and we need to slow down some. And Athos, he’ll make sure to tell us if we’re doin’ anything that actually hurts. Won’t you, Athos?”

“Of course,” Athos said at once, knowing that hiding his pain in this would only end up hurting his two lovers.

“Alright then,” Porthos smiled. “So let’s go back to talkin’ for just a bit. First, always use slick. And spit is *not* slick. Second, if it causes actual pain then you’re rushin’ and you need to slow down. Last, if anything happens that makes either of you uncomfortable in any way, you say so. You don’t keep quiet about it. You don’t try to suffer through it. You speak up. Then we can decide together if we want to keep goin’ or not, but you don’t make a decision like that for all of us on your own. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Athos said.

“Agreed,” Aramis replied a bit more hesitantly. He knew Porthos had likely put that stipulation in for his benefit but there was no valid argument he could make against it. Not that Porthos and Athos both would not vehemently counter.

“So how do you want to do this?” Porthos asked, hoping to get them back on track. 

“Well,” Athos hesitated, “considering our relative lack of knowledge in this area, I think it might be in all of our best interest if you were to, perhaps… prepare me…”

Porthos swallowed thickly, Athos’ words going straight to his groin and making him start to harden. “You sure you want me?” he asked. “I can tell Aramis what he needs to do.”

“I want you,” Athos told him, his voice sure.

Porthos looked to Aramis then, wanting to make certain the idea was alright with him as well. From the look of unabashed lust in his eyes, as well as his body’s response, it was quite evident that it was. 

“Then you’ll have me,” Porthos promised. He leaned down and kissed Athos slowly and thoroughly, wanting to get him back to where they were before. He felt Aramis move up on Athos’ other side and grinned into the kiss when Athos began to moan helplessly. In no time, he was writhing between them, his ardor restored to what it had been before.

Pulling back, Porthos looked down at him then picked up the bottle of oil. “Spread your legs for me,” he instructed and watched as Athos quickly complied. “Yeah, just like that. Keep them nice and open. I’m gonna slick up my fingers and just touch you a bit, okay?”

Athos nodded, beyond words at the moment. Aramis had ceased his ministrations to watch as Porthos slicked his fingers and brought them down to stroke Athos’ erection. Athos groaned loudly at the feel of those strong, slick fingers on him but Porthos only stroked him once before moving lower, down past his swollen bollocks to the space just behind them.

Aramis watched avidly as Porthos’ touches made Athos gasp and fist his hands in the sheets. His own body ached at the thought of just where Porthos must be touching him. 

“I’m stroking just behind his sack,” Porthos said, remembering that he was supposed to be instructing Aramis on the proper way to do this. “I’m gonna push your leg back now, brother, so I can see your hole.”

“Oh God,” Athos groaned, his face flushing crimson at Porthos’ filthy words. His embarrassment was not nearly enough for him to cease what was being done to him and he opted for squeezing his eyes shut instead and concentrating on the feelings that Porthos was stirring inside him.

Porthos took the thigh next to Aramis and lifted it back, pushing Athos’ leg into his chest and baring even more of him. “Beautiful,” he murmured and let an oil-slick finger brush between his cheeks and trail lightly over his hole.

Aramis and Athos both moaned as Porthos continued to play Athos’ body, ratcheting his desire up higher and higher. “Gonna push my finger in now,” he said as he pressed against Athos’ hole. He waited until Athos nodded then pushed in. He stopped at the first knuckle when Athos stiffened and waited for his body to relax and let him in. He was rewarded a few moments later when he felt Athos’ body loosen and slid his finger the rest of the way in.

“Tell me,” Aramis implored as he watched Porthos breaching their lover for the first time. The look of absolute wonder on Athos face was nearly transcendent and Aramis hated that he had no frame of reference in this.

“He is… he is inside me,” Athos said after a moment. “He is holding himself still. He feels so big.”

Porthos huffed out a bit of a laugh. “Tis only one finger, brother,” he said. 

“I know,” Athos admitted. “Yet already I feel so… invaded.”

“Invaded?” Aramis asked in concern. He was not sure he liked the thought of that.

“Not… not in a bad way,” Athos reassured him. “I do not mind the… the plundering… if it is done by one of you.”

“You tell us if it’s too much,” Porthos told him as he started to move his finger back and forth inside him, carefully getting his body used to the sensation. 

Athos nodded his compliance, his words lost again as Porthos began to carefully fuck his finger in and out of him. He had never felt so taken in all of his life and he reveled in it. Suddenly needing to feel Aramis, he let go of the bedding and reached for him. He was relieved when Aramis’ strong hand found his and held on tight as if needing the anchor just as badly as Athos. 

“More, please,” Athos begged desperately. He was unsure where the sudden desire to be *taken* like this came from but he found he had no wish to fight it. 

“Don’t want to rush,” Porthos cautioned. “Not gonna hurt you.” Still, he pulled his finger free, added more oil to his hand and carefully slid two back inside of Athos. 

“Yes…” Athos cried out as Porthos’ fingers filled him. His body was on fire and he thought he might combust if he did not spend himself soon. Against his will, an image of he and Porthos at the ruined church flashed through his mind but Athos shook his head violently as if trying to dislodge it from his very skull.

“Brother?” Porthos called, stilling the movement of his hand. He had not missed the sudden, frantic motion of Athos’ head.

“It is alright, Athos,” Aramis whispered as he leaned down close to him. Athos’ grip on his hand had tightened to almost bruising intensity but he did not so much as flinch. “You are safe here with us. We have you. Open your eyes, Athos.”

At Aramis’ words Athos forced his eyes open. He saw Aramis looking down at him from a few inches away then looked over his shoulder to see Porthos watching him worriedly. “I’m alright,” he managed after a few seconds. “I got lost for a moment, but I am back now.”

“Do you want me to stop?” Porthos asked, already starting to slide his fingers free.

“No!” Athos nearly shouted then repeated more calmly. “No. I do not wish you to stop. I only got lost for a moment. I am here again now. Please, Porthos, make me ready for him.”

“Very well,” Porthos said and slowly slid his fingers back inside. This time he crooked them slightly and was rewarded when Athos cried out and bucked hard. “Feel good?”

“Again! Oh, again,” Athos demanded as a pleasure he had never known surged through him.

“What are you doing to him?” Aramis asked in astonishment.

“It’s why men do this,” Porthos explained vaguely. “You’ll see.” Porthos could feel Athos’ body loosening around his fingers. He glanced at Aramis’ erection then down at his fingers trying to judge if he needed to use a third one on Athos or not. While Aramis was not small by any standard, his hands were quite large and Porthos did not think stretching Athos any further was necessary. Nor did he think Athos could last through much more.

“You ready?” he asked Aramis as he pulled his fingers free.

Aramis froze for a moment then gently disengaged his hand from Athos’. “Is there some way in particular…” he trailed off.

“Use the oil on yourself,” Porthos instructed, “then push his thighs up. You’ll have to push hard at first to breach him but once you do, stop and give him a chance to adjust.”

“Alright,” Aramis said, licking his lips nervously. He switched places with Porthos and took the proffered oil. He slicked his erection liberally then did as Porthos said and pushed Athos’ legs back exposing his hole to Aramis’ view for the first time.

“Come on, love,” Porthos encouraged when Aramis hesitated. “Give him what he wants.”

Aramis spared a glance at him then back down at Athos once more. Taking a breath, he let one of Athos’ legs rest against his shoulder so he could grasp himself. Placing the head of his cock at Athos’ loosened hole, he could not suppress a shudder of desire then he was pushing in intent on giving Athos what he had asked for.

It took more pressure than Aramis would have thought to breach Athos’ body and he almost stopped, concerned that he would hurt him. But then the guardian muscle suddenly gave way and the head of his cock was surrounded by the tightest, hottest channel he had ever felt.

“Easy, Aramis,” Porthos cautioned as he reached up to steady him. “Give him a few minutes to adjust. You’re a bit bigger than my fingers and the shape is different.”

“He’s so tight. Dios,” Aramis gasped as he fought his body’s natural inclination to bury itself to the hilt inside of Athos. 

“I know,” Porthos grinned. “But we don’t wanna hurt him so we’ve got to give his body a few minutes to get used to it. When you feel him start to unclench then you can press forward a bit, but take it slow.”

Porthos could see the strain it was putting on Aramis to remain still but he knew the man would not move until he knew he could do so without causing Athos pain. Athos, however, had tightened up considerably when Aramis had breached him. 

Taking the oil, Porthos poured some in his hand and took Athos’ flagging erection in his hand. He began to stroke him slowly, giving him something else to focus on and allowing his body to loosen up. Finally, he was fully hard again and his body had relaxed back into the bed once more.

“You may proceed,” Athos told Aramis through half-closed eyes. He did not know how Aramis had managed to remain so perfectly still all this time but he knew it was past time for his suffering to end. 

“Are you sure?” Aramis asked. He was nearly shaking with the need to do *something*… anything, but he would wait as long as Athos needed no matter how much it tied his bollocks into knots.

“Very,” Athos told him. “Please, my Aramis, make love to me.”

Aramis had to close his eyes for a moment at Athos’ words. When he opened them again, it was to see both Athos and Porthos watching him thoughtfully. Pushing Athos’ leg back toward his chest a bit further, he began to move forward slowly. 

He stopped twice more to allow Athos time to adjust and then, finally, he was fully seated inside of him. He leaned forward, pinning Porthos hand between their bodies, and kissed Athos gently. Then he rose up again and began to move.

As soon as Aramis started to move, Athos was lost. Between the feel of Aramis *inside* of him, filling him in ways that even Porthos’ fingers had not, and Porthos’ oil-slick hand working his cock, he felt out of control, as if he were unfettered from everything that held him together. The only things holding him together at the moment were his lovers and he gladly gave himself over to them, trusting them to keep him from flying apart.

“He’s close,” Porthos whispered to Aramis as he watched Athos lose himself to pleasure in a way he had never thought the man even could, let alone would, allow himself to.

“Good,” Aramis panted. He kept his movements as steady as he could manage, refusing to give in to the desire to slam into his lover and simply rut. The feel of Athos all around him, so tight and hot, coupled with the look of the man as he gave himself over to them was wreaking havoc with his self-control and he knew he would not be able to last much longer.

“God… Both of you,” Porthos muttered as he continued to stroke Athos in time with Aramis’ thrusts. He had never seen a more beautiful sight than the two of them like this. He was nearly as undone as they were and he had not even touched himself.

In less time than he would have liked, Athos felt his release coil low in his belly then it was surging through him and he shouted as he began to spend across his stomach and chest. He could feel his body clenching hard on Aramis and shouted again at the intensity of it - something that hovered right on the edge of too much.

Aramis groaned and snapped his hips forward twice then he was spending as well, pouring his release into Athos’ willing body as pleasure stronger than anything he had ever felt before slammed through him.

As he watched them, Porthos felt his own body give a jerk and reached down to take himself in hand. A few quick pulls of his cock later and he was spending as well, adding his own release to the mess covering Athos’ stomach and chest and panting hard.

“My God,” Aramis gasped as he slumped over Athos, his forehead pressed to the other man’s as he tried to get his breathing under control once more. 

Athos managed to bring his hands up to run over Aramis’ arms, soothing him as best he could as his own body began to come down from its endorphin-fueled high. “I have you,” Athos rasped, his voice a bit hoarse. 

“That was…” Aramis trailed off.

“Yeah,” Porthos replied, unable to find the words either. When he was able to move, he carefully climbed around the other two and off the bed to retrieve the basin of water and towels he had brought in earlier.

When he returned to the bed he found them exactly as he had left them, with Aramis still lying on Athos and buried inside of him. “Come on,” Porthos cajoled. “I know you don’t want to, but he’s gonna get sore if you stay like that for too long. Besides, I’m not explainin’ to the Whelp how the pair of you ended up glued together by spend.”

“That… that was rather crude,” Aramis admonished with a laugh. “But accurate all the same.” Pushing himself up so he was leaning over Athos rather than lying atop him, he let himself slide free, wincing as the cold air hit his over-sensitive flesh.

Athos could not contain a gasp and wince of his own when Aramis pulled out. The sudden feeling of emptiness was both unexpected and decidedly unpleasant and he reached for Aramis, intent on pulling him back into his arms if he could not pull him back inside his body.

Porthos put a hand on Aramis to stop him from moving back into Athos’ arms right away. “Let me clean you up a little first, love,” Porthos said. “Then Aramis can snuggle back up with you.” 

“Why does it feel this way?” Athos asked, allowing Porthos to do as he wished even as he ached.

“Empty, you mean?” Porthos asked as he handed a damp towel to Aramis so he could clean himself while he began cleaning up Athos. At Athos’ nod, he went on. “Dunno really. Just does.”

“Does it stop?”

“Oh yeah, it’ll only ache for a little bit. Aramis was real careful with you,” Porthos said.

“No. I mean, will it always ache like this afterward?”

“Oh,” Porthos said. He thought for a moment and then nodded. “Yeah. If it were just, you know, sex then it probably wouldn’t be so bad. But, well, this is a hell of a lot more than just sex.”

“Yes, yes it is.” Athos agreed then shifted his gaze to his other lover. “Aramis, are you alright? You have been rather quiet.”

“I am… I am fine,” he promised him. “I just… I had not expected… I believe I am still coming to grips with it all.”

“Take your time, love,” Porthos told him gently. Once they were all relatively clean and no longer in danger of becoming stuck together they returned to the bed. They kept Athos nestled between them. In less time than they would have thought, the three of them were asleep, curled protectively around each other.


	35. Chapter 35

Part 35

D’Artagnan made it back to the Musketeer garrison a couple of hours before nightfall. Turning his tired horse over to the stable boy, he headed straight for Captain Treville’s office. He knew the man was probably anxious for a report considering they had been staying at his estate for nearly two weeks now. Knocking smartly, he waited for the Captain’s reply, smiling at the terse “Enter” that came almost at once. 

Treville had his head bent over his paperwork and did not look up at first to see who had entered his office. When he saw it was D’Artagnan, and that he was alone, he immediately put his quill aside and gave the young man his undivided attention. “D’Artagnan?” he queried, at once worried for the three men that were conspicuously absent. 

“All is well,” the younger man rushed to assure him when he saw the worry in the man’s eyes. “I just came to give a report and to pick up a few supplies.”

Treville let out a breath and motioned to one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Take a seat, lad,” he said and pulled out a bottle of brandy from inside his desk along with two glasses. Once he had poured them both a measure and handed one to D’Artagnan he leaned back in his chair. “So how are they?”

“Doing well,” he replied. “Healing. It’s… a lot to get over. For all of them.” He knew the Captain was concerned for them, as he was for all of his men, but he did not want to inadvertently disclose more than he should. 

“Hmm,” Treville said noncommittally. “And are they? Getting over it, that is?”

“Yes, Sir. Some days are better than others,” he shrugged. 

“How’s Athos’ back? From what he was saying, the damage was extensive. Does he know if any it’s permanent yet?”

D’Artagnan started and then swallowed. He had not even considered that Athos might suffer something permanent from the scarring on his back. Now that he thought about it, though, he knew that he should have. Scarring like that, especially over so large an area, could seriously limit a man’s range of motion. For Athos, that could pose a grave detriment to his sword work.

“Not that we’ve seen,” D’Artagnan said at last. “The stitches have not been out for long, though. I think it’s still too soon to tell. I know Aramis has been putting a salve on it daily. I had assumed it was merely to prevent chafing but perhaps he meant to help lessen any… after effects as well.”

“Perhaps,” Treville conceded. Aramis was a good field surgeon. If there was anything to be done for Athos then he would either know of it or learn of it and see that it happened. 

“And how are Porthos and Athos getting on?” Treville prodded when D’Artagnan fell silent again. 

“They are well. Porthos still struggles with his guilt but we have been helping him with that.”

“You know, D’Artagnan, for someone who has come to give a report you are remarkably reticent,” Treville observed. 

 

“Sorry, Sir,” he replied, taking a drink to hide his sudden nervousness at the Captain’s scrutiny.

“Is there something you’re trying not to tell me, son?” Treville asked as kindly as he could. He did not want to force the boy to betray any confidences among them but he needed to know how his men fared. 

D’Artagnan swallowed then sat up straight and looked Treville in the eyes. “No, Sir,” he said as confidently as he could. “We are faring as well as could reasonably be expected. There are struggles, of course, and there will be for some time. Athos’ back improves every day and Aramis keeps a sharp eye on it. I have taken on the majority of the domestic duties around the estate so the others might concentrate on more important matters. We, all of us, bear some measure of guilt in what happened. Even Athos feels it for not realizing something was amiss sooner. But we are brothers and we will see each other through this as we do with everything.”

At last D’Artagnan fell silent and simply watched his Captain for his reaction. He did not think he had given anything away that his brothers would prefer to keep between them but the Captain was a very shrewd man and he had spent a lifetime learning how to hear what was not being said.

Treville shook his head and threw back the rest of his brandy. “You do them proud, I will give you that much,” he said. He rather wished the three of them could see the young man now. He knew they would be quite pleased with him in this moment. 

“Sir?” D’Artagnan asked, confused by the Captain’s reply.

“I am glad to hear they are doing well, all things considered. In truth, I had feared they would not be able to put this behind them. I know they still have a long way to go but at least I now have hope for the lot of you. And what I meant, young man, was that you guard their secrets as well and fiercely as if they were your own. That is something to be proud of.”

“They are my brothers.”

“Yes, I suppose they are.” Treville hesitated a moment, taking in the sight of the young man before him. While it was true the other three were his brothers, it was not D’Artagnan’s responsibility to nurse-maid them, not if they were capable of taking care of themselves. “You do know that you do not need to wait for them to return in order for you to do so, correct?”

D’Artagnan paused for a heartbeat then stiffened in his seat. “I stand with my brothers, Captain.”

“They would not begrudge you returning to duty, D’Artagnan.”

“What they may or may not begrudge is irrelevant, Sir. I stand with my brothers and I will return to duty only when they do. If you wish to revoke my commission…”

“Enough of that,” Treville told him quickly. “I did not mean to imply that your place here was in any danger. I only meant to make sure you understood your options.”

“I understand everything, Sir. And while I thank you for your concern, it is unnecessary.” D’Artagnan hesitated then decided a bit of open honest would help the Captain to better understand. “I will not leave my brothers. We stand together. We ride together. We shall, eventually, die together. As it should be.”

“You have become quite close to your brothers, haven’t you?” 

D’Artagnan went stock still, unsure how to answer Treville’s question without lying or giving away far more than he wanted to. “Sir? I am afraid I do not know what it is you wish me to say.”

“Only the truth, lad. Only ever the truth.” Treville sighed. He had known this was coming. He was not, after all, a stupid man nor was he a blind one. He had known of the closeness between Aramis and Porthos for some time. The fact that they managed to not only draw Athos into their midst, but keep him there, spoke volumes as well. Now, young D’Artagnan was showing the same fierce loyalty and protectiveness that the other three displayed.

He watched the younger man struggle to find something to say for a moment longer then leaned forward and poured them both another measure of brandy. “Peace, lad,” he soothed. “I mean no ill toward any of you. I am not… unaware… of the status quo among your brothers. Though, I have a feeling that may have shifted a bit. I am not asking you to tell me anything you do not wish to. I would never be so foolish as to ask you to betray their confidence. Just… be careful, lad. They are men grown and have a wealth of experience to draw on to help them make their decisions. While you are certainly no longer a boy, you are still young, and I would not have you make a decision in haste that you come to regret.”

D’Artagnan drank the brandy that the Captain had poured him and considered his words carefully. Setting the glass back down, he spoke. “I thank you again for your concern, Sir, but I have already made my decision. I will stand with my brothers until I or they no longer stand.”

“Very well, son,” Treville relented. “I have but one other question to ask you on the matter and then I shall leave it lie.”

“Go ahead.”

“What of your friend, Madame Bonacieux?” Treville asked carefully. He had not wish to earn the young man’s ire but he wanted to make sure he was considering *all* of his options as well as the people outside of his three brothers that those choices might affect.

D’Artagnan looked away for a brief moment before steeling himself and looking back at Captain Treville. “I had planned to go there next,” he told him. “She… she is a fine lady and a dear friend and she deserves a man that will put her first.”

“And that man is not you?”

“No, Sir. That man is not me.”

“Then I wish you well, lad,” Treville said, knowing there was no point in dragging the conversation out further. D’Artagnan had told him all he intended to. “Make sure to restock Aramis’ medical supplies before you head back in the morning. You should be safe enough out there but I know better than to underestimate you lot.”

“Yes, Sir,” D’Artagnan smiled and stood. He was surprised when Treville held out his hand to him but he shook it gladly. Leaving the garrison, he headed straight to Constance’s house. He was not particularly looking forward to this conversation as he hated the thought of hurting her, but he knew it was for the best. She really did deserve a man that would put her first and he knew in his heart that he would never be able to do that.

The walk to Constance’s was a short one and all too soon, D’Artagnan found himself standing outside her door. Taking a deep breath, he knocked and waited for her to answer. When she opened the door, the look of genuine happiness at seeing him made him smile in return and he let himself be ushered inside. He hugged her tightly and kissed her cheek then stepped back and just looked at her for a moment. 

“I didn’t know you were on your way back,” she said as she bade him sit down at the kitchen table with her. 

“It was not planned,” he said. “We needed to replenish our supplies and give the Captain a report.”

“Where have you been?” she asked, confused. “No one would tell me anything.”

“We had a bit of a problem on our last mission,” he said, not wanting to go into detail. “Athos was hurt and, well, we’ve all needed time to heal.”

“Is he alright?” she asked, concerned, knowing how much he admired Athos.

“Physically, he is healing,” he said. “It will… take time.”

“But you are back now.”

“No,” he told her as gently as he could. “I just came to give Treville a report and restock. I’m heading back at first light.”

“But… why?” she asked, confused. “You said yourself they were healing. Surely they do not need you there with them.”

“It is not a matter of need, Constance,” he replied. “They are my brothers. My place is with them.”

She looked at him searchingly for long moments. She felt some measure of pride that he did not look away from her gaze, but met her eyes unflinchingly. What she saw there let her know that whatever she had hoped to have between them was simply not to be. “And your brothers will always come first, won’t they?”

“Yes. I am so sorry. I do not mean to hurt you.”

“Oh hush,” she said and ducked her head so she could brush away a tear. “You are being honest with me which is more than most men would be and I thank you for that.”

“I would very much like to still count you among my friends.”

“As if you could get rid of me that easily,” she replied and gave him a shaky smile. “When they are well… when you are back… you must bring them round for dinner.”

D’Artagnan took her hands in his and kissed her fingers gently. “I will. I promise.”

They talked long into the night, of what had been happening around the garrison while he had been away and he told her more of how the others were faring, though he still spared her the details of their ordeal. When he finally left to make his way back to the garrison for the night, his heart sat much lighter in his chest and he found himself looking forward to a time when they might actually be able to return here.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Treville had kept an eye out for D’Artagnan’s return, concerned about how his talk with Madame Bonacieux might go. He was relieved when the lad finally walked back into the garrison, his step noticeably lighter than when he had left. That was one less thing he had to worry about then.

As he had waited for the boy’s return he had thought about his three wayward men. He had, of course, known of the closeness between Aramis and Porthos for some time – ever since whatever incident occurred that had nearly sent Aramis into an Athos-level downward spiral. He had accepted Porthos’ barely believable tales and had allowed the man the latitude he needed to care for his friend, keeping a weather eye on Athos at the same time. It had been a risk, but it had been the right decision in the end as Aramis had managed to pull himself together again. Now, he had to wonder if he had made a mistake. Had he allowed them to get too close? But even if he had, would there truly have been any way to stop it? 

Now there was Athos and the boy to be concerned with. He had watched D’Artagnan around the older Musketeer and thought very little of his growing hero worship. He had assumed Athos’ very nature would quickly tarnish it. Apparently, he had been wrong. For it was clear that D’Artagnan was as devoted to Athos as Porthos was to Aramis. The only problem he could foresee was if Athos did not return the lad’s affections. Somehow, he doubted he needed to worry about that. Not from the way the lad was acting. 

Treville frowned and considered having yet another glass of brandy. While he had no problems with his men being… close, it was still cause for some concern. These four were certainly not the first Musketeers to take brotherhood a step further than most, but they were not also known for the subtlety. Worse yet, they tended to make enemies in very high places. If they were found out, if even one of them were discovered, the lot of them could find themselves headed for the gallows. And that… that was something Treville simply would not allow to happen. If anyone thought to come for his men, they would damn well have to go through him to do it. 

Deciding he had given it enough thought for one night, Treville blew out the candle in his office and prepared to retire. He would see to it that they were safe and if the unthinkable happened, well, he was not a man without certain means at his disposal. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

D’Artagnan rode back into the estate just after mid-day. It had taken him a little longer to get under way than he had intended but he had wanted to make sure they had sufficient medical supplies on hand if the need should arise. When he walked back into the house, it was to find his three brothers reading in the small library. 

He had barely made it inside the room before Athos was setting his book down and striding toward him. Then he was being pulled into Athos’ arms and kissed. And this kiss, much to D’Artagnan’s delight, was much bolder than the last they had shared. In fact, D’Artagnan had to stop himself from shoving Athos against the nearest wall and ravaging him while Aramis and Porthos looked on.

The sound of Aramis clearing his throat finally brought him back to his senses and D’Artagnan reluctantly pulled back, missing the feel of Athos’ lips immediately but not yet willing to push his luck where Aramis was concerned. 

“Oh don’t mind us,” Aramis said with a smirk, “but the furniture in this room is rather cramped for that sort of thing.”

“So where would you suggest?” D’Artagnan asked, his eyes never leaving Athos’ face.

“Why the main hall, of course. The divan has worked quite well so far. No reason to think it can’t hold four.”

D’Artagnan looked over his shoulder at Aramis and saw the challenge in his eyes. With a smirk of his own he took Athos by the hand and led him into the other room and over to the divan. Sitting down, D’Artagnan tugged Athos down on top of him so that the older man was straddling his lap and they quickly resumed their earlier kiss.

“Careful, love,” Porthos said as he and Aramis made to follow them. “Best not to push the lad too far. He’s as bad as you when it comes to a dare.”

“I shall be careful,” Aramis promised. “But I think he could stand a bit of a challenge.”

When they joined the other pair they found them kissing hungrily, D’Artagnan’s hands on Athos’ backside, holding him flush against him. Porthos quirked an eyebrow at the scene, surprised at how quickly they had progressed and glanced at Aramis. He saw the same concern in the other man’s face and relaxed a bit. At least Aramis knew not to push so hard now.

With a grin, Porthos took Aramis’ hand and sat down next to D’Artagnan and Athos. He pulled Aramis forward and onto his lap so that he was straddling him in the same manner as Athos. Aramis wasted no time in leaning forward to kiss Porthos and Porthos purposely groaned aloud, hoping their presence would be enough to keep D’Artagnan in check at least a little bit. 

When Athos felt the divan dip signaling the arrival of Porthos and Aramis he could not help but moan into D’Artagnan’s mouth. Just knowing that his other lovers were right there beside them, kissing and touching in the same manner, was arousing in the extreme and Athos ground himself against D’Artagnan.

D’Artagnan could feel his own arousal ratcheting up with the arrival of the others and had to wonder at the cause of it. Was it simply the idea of being watched while he touched Athos in so intimate a manner? Or was it that it was *Aramis* and *Porthos* watching that was making his desire spiral out of control? And if it was that, then why? Did he feel more than a brother’s affection for them as well or was it simply the pride of *taking* Athos there in front of them… in front of *Aramis* that made his cock harden painfully in his breeches?

Just when D’Artagnan thought he might be in danger of soiling his clothes, Athos pulled back panting. He could see the blush of arousal that stained Athos’ cheeks and tried to look him in the eyes but he ducked away. With a frown, D’Artagnan took him by the chin and gently lifted his head until he could look at him. Leaning forward he placed a single, soft kiss on Athos’ mouth and leaned back. 

“This is at your pace,” D’Artagnan told him. “No faster.”

“I have no wish to tease,” Athos replied. 

“You have not,” came D’Artagnan’s reply. “We go as fast or as slow as you dictate. And before you even say it, the fact that I am hard and aching is irrelevant. I am more than capable of taking care of myself in that regard and am happy to do so for as long as necessary.”

Athos searched his eyes for a moment then simply leaned forward and rested his head on D’Artagnan’s shoulder. He sighed when he felt the other man’s arms come around him and stroke gently over his back, ever mindful of his still healing scars. 

Not wanting to make things more difficult on their brothers, Aramis pulled back as well and mirrored Athos, letting his head rest on Porthos’ shoulder and enjoying his strong embrace as their bodies calmed down once more.

“How did it go with the Captain?” Athos asked after a while.

“Well enough,” D’Artagnan replied. “I… I think he has… suspicions, though he said nothing outright.”

“What do you mean?” Aramis asked, suddenly concerned. 

“He said he was aware of the status quo among us and to make sure of what I wanted. And he cautioned us to be careful.”

“That is worrisome,” Aramis said.

“Is it?” Athos asked. “If he is aware of the ‘status quo’ as he put it then he was aware of it before now. He has never made mention of it before. I believe the only reason he did so now was because of D’Artagnan.”

“Me?”

“Yes,” Athos said. “You are young. He does not want to see you make a mistake that could follow you for the rest of your life. He is, in his way, trying to protect you.”

“He has an odd way of protectin’ folks,” Porthos commented.

“You have no idea,” Athos replied dryly, remembering Treville’s own words to him about seeing Porthos punished for his sake.

“Something we should know?” Aramis asked, picking up the derisive note in Athos’ voice.

“Not particularly.”

“Brother…” Porthos trailed off. He never liked when one of them kept things from the others. Nothing good ever came of that.

Exhaling loudly, Athos sat up and looked at them. “When we first returned to the garrison before coming here,” he began then hesitated. “He said… he said I would be within my rights if I… if I wanted Porthos…”

“If you wanted me to pay for what I’d done,” Porthos finished for him, understanding what Athos was unable to say.

“Yes,” he replied bitterly. “If I had not still been so hurt I probably would have struck him for even suggesting such a thing.”

“It would have been within your rights…” Porthos began.

“Shut up!” Athos snarled, suddenly enraged. “Before *any* man takes a whip to you they will have to go *through* me to do it.”

“Easy, Athos,” D’Artagnan said as he attempted to pull Athos back into his arms to try to calm him. 

“No!” Athos spat, struggling to get up.

“A little help here,” D’Artagnan said, looking to the others in alarm.

“Sorry, Whelp, I’m with Athos on this one,” Aramis said, his own eyes narrowed dangerously. 

“Alright, that’s enough, both of you,” Porthos said, raising his voice and putting just enough of an edge in it to make them take heed. He waited until he had everyone’s attention before continuing. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It was the guilt talkin’. That’s gonna happen from time to time.”

Athos took in Porthos’ words and made himself calm even more. “I am sorry as well. But I will not see you punished for something you did not do.”

Porthos leaned to the side and pulled Athos into a brief kiss then sat back up again. “And you,” he said to Aramis. “Do not egg him on when he gets like that.”

“I will not apologize for protecting you,” Aramis said. 

“I’m not asking you to,” Porthos countered as he stroked along his side in a way he knew never failed to calm him. “But there was nothing to protect me from just now.”

“I will… try… not to encourage Athos’ more extreme behavior for no reason,” Aramis agreed reluctantly. “Just know that I agree with him in this.”

“As do I,” D’Artagnan added softly. “I did not mean to make it seem as though I did not.”

“You didn’t, lad,” Porthos told. “Now can we get back to the conversation about Treville maybe possibly knowing about us?”

“Not much more to tell is there?” D’Artagnan shrugged. “I think he knows, or at least suspects, but I can’t be certain. No way to really tell unless we ask him outright.”

“I would not recommend that course of action,” Athos cautioned. “Ignorance, even of the willful variety, affords him some little protection in this should we be found out. Let us not take that from him for no good reason.”

“Agreed,” Aramis said. “So any other news of the garrison to report?”

“Not really,” D’Artagnan replied. “He told me I could come back on my own if I wanted. I’m fairly sure you can guess my answer to that. He did tell me to make sure to take plenty of medical supplies with me, just in case.”

“Ah, our Captain knows us too well,” Aramis remarked. 

“Are you sure…” Athos began only to be stopped by a look from D’Artagnan. Deciding that discretion was indeed the better part of valor, he held up his hands in surrender. “I withdraw the question.”

They settled back into each other after that, attempting to regain their earlier closeness. D’Artagnan knew he had one last thing he needed to tell them and decided to get it over and done with. “I spoke with Constance before I left,” he said.

“Ah,” Aramis said after a moment. “And how is dear Madame Bonacieux?”

“She’s fine,” he replied. “Misses having someone around to slap, I think.”

“And how did your conversation go?” Athos prompted.

“Better than I would have thought,” he admitted. “I did not like hurting her but she deserves someone who will put her first.”

“And that is not you?” Athos asked, surprised that the young man had broken things off with the lady. He knew how much Constance meant to him and he would never have asked him for such a sacrifice. 

“She knows that I would never put her before my brothers,” was all he said, leaving the rest up to them.

“I do hope she was not angry,” Aramis said after some few moments.

“No,” D’Artagnan told him. “She was glad for my honesty and made me promise to bring you all around for dinner once we were back.”

“She is a rare lady, indeed,” Aramis said.


	36. Chapter 36

Part 36

That night, Athos bid Porthos and Aramis good-night and went to join D’Artagnan. He smiled at the look of surprise on his face when he walked into their room and closed the door behind him. “I have missed you,” he said as he neared the bed, unlacing his shirt as he did so.

D’Artagnan found his throat suddenly dry and had to swallow before he could speak. “I have missed you as well. Aramis was correct. I have grown used to you sleeping by my side. I find I do not like it much when we are apart.”

“Then we shall have to endeavor to prevent that in the future.”

D’Artagnan frowned a bit at that. “I do not see how that will be possible,” he remarked. “Aramis…”

“We shall find a way,” Athos told him. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside then set to work on his breeches. He could see the naked want on the other man’s face and it fueled his own ardor even as it sent a tendril of apprehension through him. This would, after all, be the first time he had shared a bed with D’Artagnan since they had voiced their mutual desire.

D’Artagnan seemed to pick up on Athos’ distress at once and reached out to still his hands as he worked at his laces. “Nothing more need happen here tonight than has happened any other,” he told him. “I would have you come to this bed knowing I have no expectations of you other than to simply be by my side.”

Athos covered the other man’s hands with his own and squeezed. “Thank you. I do not know where this sudden trepidation springs from. I know you will ask no more of me than I would willingly give.”

“Never,” D’Artagnan promised. “And if even this is too much tonight, then I will understand. I would not have you with me for any reason other than that you desire to do so. You owe me nothing. If you would rest easier with the others, then I will understand. I will miss you, but I will understand all the same.”

“I wish to be here,” Athos told him. “I think… I think my worry stems from my fear of disappointing you in this.”

“You could never disappoint me.”

Athos merely crooked one elegant eyebrow at him. When D’Artagnan relented and sat back he finished removing his breeches and joined him in the bed. “You say I could never disappoint you, yet you have also said that… this… is not your normal inclination. Forgive me if I am a bit concerned that you will not find me as satisfying as you perhaps found Madame Bonacieux.”

“Athos,” D’Artagnan began then stopped. He knew he needed to choose his words with care here. “It is true; men do not normally arouse me. Yet when I watched the three of you before I barely made it back to our room before I spent myself. I may not find *men* arousing as a whole, but I most certainly find *you* arousing. And being with you, like this, has been more fulfilling than anything I have known before.” 

“D’Artagnan…” Athos sighed and pulled him into his arms. He kissed him then as he had in the library, letting his desire show and was met with an equal enthusiasm. It was clear that they both wanted this and it was getting harder for both of them not to simply let their passions carry them away.

They kissed and stroked each other, taking turns controlling the kiss, enjoying the give and take involved as they met as equals. After a while, D’Artagnan pulled back. He settled Athos against his chest so that they both might settle down a bit. As he held him, he thought of something else Treville had said that preyed upon his mind.

“Treville asked how your back was doing,” he began attempting to ease into the subject.

“I trust you told him all was healing fine.”

“I did,” D’Artagnan agreed. “He did voice some concern about possible… lasting repercussions.”

“I see,” Athos said. He moved back so he could meet the younger man’s eyes. “There is a chance, of course. I would say it more than likely that I will suffer some loss of movement. This is not news to me.”

“It was to me,” D’Artagnan replied softly. “And before you say it, I know it should not have been, but it was. I had not even considered the fact that you might not fully recover from all that you had endured.”

“Do not let it worry you,” Athos advised. “Aramis is doing all he can to mitigate the damage. If I can no longer move exactly as I could before, then I shall learn to compensate. I must ask, though, is there a reason you did not mention this with the others?”

“I did not wish to say anything in front of Porthos,” he confessed. “He carries enough guilt for this as it is. I would not add to that for something that may not even come to pass.”

Athos leaned up and kissed him, murmuring a quiet thanks against his lips as he did so. The younger man’s unending capacity to care for them was something that never failed to amaze him. Wanting to show him how very much he appreciated all that he did for them, he surged forward when D’Artagnan would have pulled back, kissing him deeper still as he moved to lie half on top of him.

“Athos…” D’Artagnan groaned as Athos covered his body with his own. The arousal that had begun to cool suddenly flared to life once more and he found himself rocking up against the other man. The thin covering of their small clothes did little to conceal either of them and, with a bit of a twist, Athos slotted himself against D’Artagnan so that their clothed erections rubbed together.

Athos felt the younger man push his hips up into his own and ground down against him. He kissed him hungrily, thrusting his tongue deep into the other’s mouth, stroking over it as he moved atop him. He gripped D’Artagnan’s arms nearly hard enough to bruise and held him down against the bed, almost as if he were afraid the younger man might try to escape him if given the chance. 

D’Artagnan, however, merely spread his legs, letting Athos come to rest fully between them as he moaned and arched as much as the man’s heavier weight would allow. It felt scandalously indecent to enjoy be held down so completely by the man, to be surrounded by him as he took what he wanted, letting his passion and desire have free rein.

Athos considered simply rutting against the other man until they both spent. He knew D’Artagnan would not deny him if that was what he truly wanted. But it was not. He wanted this first time to be something more… something special. A part of him still worried about the other man finding him satisfying and he did not want to do anything to make him reconsider his choice. 

Pulling back from the man below him, Athos stared down at him, taking in the look of naked want on his face. Licking his lips, he saw D’Artagnan’s eyes alight on them and grinned. “I want to suck you,” he whispered huskily. 

“Oh God,” he gasped, his hips thrusting up as Athos’ words shot through him. “Are you sure?”

“I am sure I want to try,” Athos replied. At seeing the look that flashed through the other’s eyes at his words, Athos began to tease a bit, eager to see exactly how excited he could make the younger man with his words alone. “May I suck your cock, D’Artagnan? Would you like that? Would you like to feel my mouth on you?” 

“Athos,” D’Artagnan growled and thrust up hard, letting him feel how hard he was. “If your plan is to make me spend with your voice alone, you are very nearly there already.”

Athos panted and stilled, trying to rein in his own runaway passion. “Please,” he pleaded when he had calmed a fraction. “Let me taste you.”

“Yes, God, yes,” was all D’Artagnan managed to say before Athos was moving down his body, intent upon freeing his prize now that he had been granted permission. 

Athos wasted no time in unlacing D’Artagnan’s small clothes and pulling them down past his hips, freeing his straining erection and causing the younger man to gasp aloud. Athos felt a small tendril of nervousness but the rampant desire he felt quickly overrode it. 

He was rewarded with yet another moan and a thrust of his hips when he took D’Artagnan in hand and smiled at the reaction. Wetting his lips, he carefully curled them over his teeth then took the head of his cock into his mouth. 

The taste of the other man exploded across his tongue and he moaned around him, unable to do more than simply experience him. D’Artagnan was filling all of his senses – taste, touch, sight, smell and sound were all filled with the man and it was nearly overwhelming. 

For his part, D’Artagnan was trying desperately not to thrust up into Athos’ mouth and choke him, remembering what he had told them all before about his one prior experience with this act. He would not have this be yet another bad memory for the man. Fisting his hands in the sheets, he forced his hips to remain still as Athos’ hot mouth encompassed him.

Once the initial onslaught against his senses had passed, Athos was able to focus on his objective again. Ever mindful of his teeth, he began to lave the head of his lover’s cock, delighting in the moans and whimpers he pulled from the man lying beneath him. Cautiously, he inched his way down further, taking more of D’Artagnan into his mouth before starting a careful rhythm that allowed him to slowly inch down the hard shaft. 

As he felt Athos taking him in deeper and deeper, D’Artagnan was no longer able to refrain from touching him. He brought his shaking hands to Athos’ head and carded his fingers through his hair. He did not try to guide him in any way, letting him set his own pace and do as he would, but needing to be able to touch and feel him as much as possible. He felt completely undone by Athos’ eager ministrations, more so than he had ever been before by so simple an act. In much less time than he would have liked he felt tension coiling in low in his belly and knew he would not last much longer.

“Athos… going to…” he tried to warn, tugging gently at his lover’s hair to pull him away.

Athos, however, had other ideas. He moaned around D’Artagnan’s cock and slid his mouth down even further, intent on taking everything his young lover had to offer while being mindful not to choke himself. He could feel him tensing beneath him, his thighs trembling beneath Athos as he sucked and laved the hard column of flesh in his mouth.

The feel of Athos trying to take yet more of him in was enough to snap D’Artagnan’s thin hold on his control. With a shout, he thrust up and began to spend, his hands gripping Athos’ hair reflexively as he rode out his pleasure.

Athos felt D’Artagnan suddenly tense then his mouth was being filled and he had to swallow quickly. Each time he did, he felt the hands in his hair tighten and heard his lover moan. It was as if the feel of his mouth swallowing around D’Artagnan as he spent was more than the other man could take and Athos found his own body responding to such blatant proof of the pleasure he had given.

Finally, when he could coax no more from the other man, Athos pulled back and let D’Artagnan slide from his mouth. He placed a last kiss at the base of his softening cock, then looked up. The look of unadulterated bliss on his face made Athos groan and shift as his own erection pulsed hotly inside his small clothes, trapped as it was between his belly and the bed.

“Come here,” D’Artagnan said, his voice low and rough, as he held his arms open for Athos.

Athos did not hesitate. He moved up and into D’Artagnan’s arms, letting his body press against the other’s side so he could feel his hardness. He started to lean forward to kiss him but thought better of it, realizing the younger man might not be eager to taste himself.

D’Artagnan saw Athos’ hesitation and moved upward as he cupped the back of his head so he could not attempt to pull back. He kissed him deeply, thrusting his tongue into Athos’ open mouth and stroking along the man’s own. The taste of his spend mixed with Athos’ own taste made something hot coil low in his belly and he knew if he had not just spent he would be hardening yet again.

“Let me make you feel good,” D’Artagnan whispered when he pulled his mouth from Athos’ to kiss along his jaw. 

Athos could only nod, his own need like a fire inside him. He would be glad to simply rut against his lover’s side until he spent but he could not make himself form the words necessary to say so. Instead, he thrust his hips against the other man’s, grinding his hardness into his hip and feeling fire burn inside of him.

“Do you want me to suck you?” D’Artagnan asked. He was eager to return the pleasure that Athos had given him though he had never done such a thing before. Considering how far gone Athos already was, he did not think his lover would be too critical of his lack of skill.

Athos shook his head, not wanting to push the younger man into something he may not yet be ready for. He had not offered himself in expectation of reciprocation. He knew, though, that he would need to voice his wishes if he was going to try to deter him.

“Your… your hand,” he gasped as he ground against D’Artagnan again, barely managing not to spend then and there. As it was, he would be lucky to last until the lad got his laces undone.

“Alright,” D’Artagnan agreed, willing to give Athos whatever he asked for. He turned on his side then so they were facing one another. Reaching between them, he quickly unlaced Athos’ small clothes and pulled him out. He grinned when Athos hissed at the feeling of cool air on his overheated cock then quickly took him in hand. 

Athos threw his head back and let out a long, loud moan as D’Artagnan began to stroke him. He gripped the other man’s upper arm tightly as he set about bringing him off with swift, efficient strokes. He was glad the other did not have the penchant for teasing that Aramis’ did as he was in no fit state to stand it at the moment.

“Spend for me,” D’Artagnan told him hotly as he stroked firmly from root to tip. 

That was all Athos could take. With a cry he thrust forward into D’Artagnan’s hand and began to spend. He could feel D’Artagnan continuing to stroke him as he pulsed wetly between them. When it was over, Athos lay panting, his eyes squeezed shut as he fought to calm himself.

“Are you alright?” D’Artagnan asked, concerned when Athos continued to keep his eyes firmly closed.

At the soft concern in his lover’s voice, Athos opened his eyes and smiled. He leaned forward the few inches needed and kissed him softly. “I do not believe alright even begins to cover it,” he told him a moment later.

D’Artagnan smiled in relief. He used a corner of the bed sheet to clean them up then pulled Athos in close and held him. Moments later, they were both asleep.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And once again, the muse took a header into left field on this part...

Part 37

“What is it?” Porthos asked as he and Aramis lay in bed. He could tell something was bothering his lover but was unsure what. He knew the revelation that Treville might be onto them worried him but it could just as easily be the thought of what was going on down the hall that had him seemingly tied in knots.

“The Captain won’t betray us,” Porthos said when Aramis failed to reply.

Aramis blew out a breath and continued to stare up at the ceiling. “I am not worried about Treville. He would not have allowed us to come here if he did not intend to shelter us.”

“So it is the boy then,” Porthos replied trying and failing to keep the edge of sadness from his voice. When Aramis remained stubbornly silent, Porthos was forced to go on. “Are you going to be able to handle this? Athos and the boy together? Because if you’re not, you need to say so now before the lad gets in any deeper and really gets his heart broken.”

Aramis turned his head to look at him then, frowning slightly. “And what, dear Porthos, makes you think D’Artagnan will be one to end up with a broken heart?”

Porthos snorted loudly. “You’re a fool if you think Athos would choose _either_ of us over you, love.”

Aramis flushed slightly at Porthos’ words and turned on his side to face him fully. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to act this way.”

“It’s alright,” Porthos told him. “We’re all still working this out. Bound to hit a few snags here and there.”

“Make me forget about it for a while,” Aramis said, his voice making it sound more like a question than a demand. 

“Hmmm…” Porthos said as if thinking it over. He looked Aramis up and down, letting his desire show and was pleased to note an answering desire in Aramis’ eyes when he met them again. “Any particular way you’d like me to do that?”

“I would very much like you to fuck me,” Aramis said his eyes never leaving Porthos. 

Porthos went stock still. He had to admit, the thought was appealing, but he was not at all sure Aramis was ready for that. He did not want him pushing himself into something he was not ready for simply because he was upset about Athos and D’Artagnan.

“Say something?” Aramis beseeched softly when Porthos failed to respond to his request. 

“Are you sure, love?” he asked, snapping himself out of his thoughts to take in Aramis’ worried expression. “I don’t want you pushin’ yourself into somethin’ you don’t really want.”

“I want this,” Aramis told him. “I want **you**. I don’t want my past to dictate my future any longer. Help me lay it to rest.”

“Wouldn’t you rather have Athos…”

“No,” Aramis interrupted gently. “You have been the one to help me through this from the beginning. It is only right that you be the one to help me through this final barrier.”

Porthos nodded, unable to form an argument against Aramis’ reasoning and not really wanting to. Still, he worried about doing this without Athos there. “Shouldn’t we at least wait for Athos to be here?”

“No,” Aramis told him again. “This is for us. I trust you. I have always trusted you. And… I would give this part of myself… this one part of me that is untouched… to you.”

Porthos stared at him for a moment then surged forward and kissed Aramis deeply, pulling him flush against him. The knowledge that Aramis had never done this before, that he was trusting _him_ with this, was wreaking havoc with his self-control. When the need to breathe forced him to release Aramis’ mouth, he quickly moved on to kiss and nip along his jaw and neck, still desperate to feel as much of his lover as he could.

“Porthos,” Aramis moaned, writhing against him as Porthos ravaged his neck.

“I love you so bloody much,” Porthos panted into his ear as he struggled to calm himself. When he could finally think again he leaned back so he could look at Aramis. “I am honored that you would give something so precious to me.”

Aramis reached up and stroked Porthos’ face, tracing along his jaw. “I love you as well, my dear sweet friend. So very, very much. Make love to me?”

“Gladly,” Porthos nodded. He kissed him again, more gently this time then rose from the bed to get the things they would need. “I’ll be right back. Don’t… don’t get undressed. I… I’d like to do that.”

“Of course,” Aramis said, touched that Porthos would think something so mundane as undressing him was somehow special. 

Porthos gathered what they would need and quickly returned to their room. He found Aramis waiting just as he’d left him and smiled at him as he closed the door and set the basin of water and towels down before moving to rejoin him on the bed, careful to set the bottle of oil down within reach.

Stretching out beside him, Porthos gave Aramis a slow and thorough kiss then pulled back to look into a pair of dazed brown eyes. “If you want me to slow down or stop, at any time, you just say the word.”

Aramis grinned up at him fondly at that but Porthos shook his head. “Promise me, Aramis,” he insisted. “I need to know you’ll stop me if it’s too much. I can’t… I won’t take the chance…”

“I promise,” Aramis said quickly, covering Porthos’ mouth with two of his fingers to stop any more words from spilling out. “I will not allow you to hurt me because I know how much it would hurt you. I give you my word, I will tell you if I… become distressed enough that we need to… address it.”

“Thank you,” Porthos murmured against the fingers covering his mouth. He did not care for Aramis’ careful wording but he would take what he could get and trust his lover in this. He knew Aramis was pushing himself but he also understood why and was willing to help him with that to a degree. 

He pulled Aramis’ hand away from his mouth then and kissed his fingers then his palm. He laid his hand back down then moved to kiss his lips once more. From there he moved downward, kissing and nipping along Aramis’ neck the way he knew made his lover come undone. When he reached the junction between neck and shoulder, he bit down, not hard but hard enough and was rewarded with a sharp cry from the other man as he arched upward and grasped onto any part of Porthos he could reach.

For long moments Porthos continued to torment the area, alternating between biting and then lathing the area with his tongue. Only when Aramis was panting harshly, his words a jumbled mix of French and Spanish, and nearly writhing hard enough to push him off the bed did Porthos abandon the spot and move further down to his lover’s chest.

“ _Por favor. Por favor. Querido, yo quemo…_ ” Aramis moaned as Porthos began to suckle at his chest, first one nipple, then the other, back and forth. 

Porthos felt his own arousal spike as Aramis seemed to lose his ability to speak French altogether. Looking up at him, he could see how affected he was and decided it was time to move things along. He moved back up so that his face was next to Aramis’ and stroked his jaw with one hand while planting soothing kisses on his cheek and temple. Once Aramis seemed to calm a bit, Porthos turned his head toward him. “May I undress you?” he asked.

“Please,” Aramis whispered.

Porthos smiled widely, glad to see his lover was back with him enough to speak so he could understand him again. Sitting up, he unlaced Aramis’ small clothes slowly, savoring the unveiling as if it were the first time he was seeing the man in such a way. Once he had the laces undone, he helped Aramis lift his hips then pulled the garment off, dropping it over the side of the bed before turning back to take in the sight of his lover laid completely bare for him.

Aramis felt his heart clench at the look of adoration on Porthos’ face as he looked his naked body up and down. It was far from the first time Porthos had seen him unclothed yet the man acted as if he had never seen him in such a state before. It made Aramis feel precious in a way he had not expected to and he reached out and took Porthos’ hand and entwined their fingers.

When he felt Aramis take his hand, Porthos looked up at him and saw him watching him intently. “What is it?” he asked, his voice inexplicably husky.

“You now?” Aramis asked, gesturing toward Porthos’ own small clothes. 

Porthos wasted no time in complying, dropping them over the side of the bed to lay with Aramis’ own. He watched Aramis run his eyes up and down his body much the same way he had done the other man and it sent another jolt of desire through him. Leaning down, he picked up the oil and moved down the bed so he could spread Aramis’ legs and settle between them.

Aramis sucked in a breath when Porthos spread his legs, feeling both vulnerable and cherished at the same time. It was strange to feel two such differing emotions at the same time and he struggled for a moment with the dichotomy of it.

“I’m gonna start getting you ready, love,” Porthos told him. “You tell me if you need me if anything hurts or you need me to slow down.” Once Aramis nodded his agreement, Porthos coated his fingers with the oil. He ran a single finger up and down his lover’s cleft, simply getting him accustomed to being touched there then pressed his finger against Aramis’ hole lightly before pulling back.

“I may be a virgin in this,” Aramis told him, “but I am not made of glass.”

“Hush you,” Porthos chided. “I ain’t rushin’ this. Gonna take my time and make it good for you. So just lay there and let me.”

“If you make it much better for me I will end up spending before you even breach me.”

“There some kinda rule says you can only go once?” Porthos said as he rubbed along Aramis’ cleft again, pressing against his hole a bit more firmly this time but still not allowing his finger to slip inside.

“Porthos,” Aramis moaned, instinctively spreading his legs wider to bare himself more fully.

“So fucking beautiful,” Porthos whispered at the site and finally let his finger slide inside the other man. He stilled at the first knuckle, giving Aramis’ body a chance to adjust to the sensation. It felt like a vise of fire was gripping his finger and he waited for the tension to ease before carefully pushing deeper. 

“Dios!” Aramis shouted when Porthos slid his finger all the way inside him. He had never felt anything like it before. It was such an all-encompassing feeling of being taken… being utterly mastered… on a level that Aramis had never thought possible. He struggled to make his body relax around the intrusion, breathing deeply and keeping his eyes locked on Porthos, needing the reassurance that it was his dearest friend owning him in such a way.

Porthos could see the emotions flitting through Aramis’ dark eyes as he sank his finger in deep. He felt the man’s body tense around him again and waited for him to relax once more. He was careful not to break his eye contact with Aramis, knowing his lover needed that connection as he laid himself bare body and soul. When he felt the pressure finally begin to ease, Porthos began to move his finger in and out shallowly, spreading the oil around and carefully stretching the tight passage. 

“Talk to me,” Porthos pleaded when he could stand the silence no longer. Aramis looked nearly undone already and Porthos feared completely overwhelming him.

“I… you…” Aramis began, unable to put his feelings into words at first. Forcing himself to concentrate, he tried again. “I am… you are… I have never felt so… taken… so… so plundered… I am… yours… to do with as you would. Oh, Porthos…”

Porthos caught his breath at Aramis’ words, his body jolting at the white-hot spike of desire they sent all throughout him. “Is it too much?” he made himself ask even as he kept moving his finger in and out of Aramis’ body, preparing him for more.

“No,” Aramis breathed. “It is… all I never knew I desired.”

“God, Aramis,” Porthos growled and thrust his finger in as deeply as he could. “You make me want to spread you wide and shove myself inside you. You leave my self-control in tatters. Tell me you are ready for another.”

“Please,” Aramis replied eagerly. He moaned at the unexpected feeling of emptiness when Porthos slid his finger free but it only lasted a moment before he was being filled again, this time by two of them.

Porthos took firm hold of his desire and made himself go slowly. He pushed his fingers in and out of Aramis’ body, marveling at the sight of him spread out and writhing before him, accepting him into his body willingly. He could see how close he was to the edge and knew that making him spend like this would only help relax his body more. Decision made, he crooked his fingers inside him seeking. 

He was rewarded a moment later when his fingers brushed over the spot inside of Aramis and he arched up with a shout, his hips leaving the bed at the sudden sensation. Grinning, Porthos pressed his hips back down into the bed and began to brush over the spot inside him, intent on bringing his release. 

Aramis could only gasp and struggle as Porthos’ strong hand held his hips to the bed while his other did wickedly delicious things inside of him. He could feel his completion quickly approaching and tried to fight it but he was powerless against the combination of Porthos’ skilled fingers inside him and his strength pinning him in place.

Porthos thought he had never seen a more beautiful sight than that of Aramis lost in passion. He watched as his lover cried out then began to spend just from his fingers inside of him, his cock completely untouched. He kept his fingers moving, letting Aramis ride out his orgasm before gentling his motion to something soft and easy. 

He waited patiently for Aramis to be able to focus again, his hand continuing to move lazily until the man blinked at him and smiled softly. “Good?” Porthos asked.

“Better than,” Aramis rasped, his voice a bit rough. 

“You still want me to take you?” He would stop here if that was what Aramis wanted. He had no problem getting himself off and was more than willing to.

“I do,” Aramis told him. “I want you. You’ve made me feel so good. Let me do the same for you.”

“You can do that by just lyin’ there and letting me look at ya,” Porthos told him, meaning every word.

“I want you,” Aramis told him. “After what you made me feel with just your fingers, I can hardly imagine what it shall feel like when you are actually inside me fully.”

“Alright,” Porthos relented, trusting Aramis to know his own mind in this. “But you let me know if it gets to be too much. No matter how far along we are.”

“I will not let you harm me,” Aramis promised him.

Porthos slipped his fingers free of Aramis’ body then leaned over him then and kissed him softly. He settled back between his legs and picked up the oil once more. Coating himself liberally, he set the bottle back down then moved over Aramis, holding himself up with one arm and draping Aramis’ leg over it, exposing him. He lined himself up, having to stifle a groan as the head of his cock settled against Aramis’ loosened hole. Then he was pushing forward, the body beneath him tensing for only a moment before relaxing and allowing him to slide inside.

Porthos heard Aramis gasp when the head of his cock breached his body and stilled. He felt his muscles begin to shake with the strain of it but he refused to move until he knew he could do so without causing Aramis pain. 

“Go ahead,” Aramis finally told him as he concentrated on relaxing his body and allowing Porthos inside of him. It felt so different from his fingers that his body had reacted instinctively. But this was Porthos, and he knew _this_ man would never hurt him.

Porthos felt the slight easing around his cock and pushed forward a little more. Bit by bit he worked himself inside, pulling back slightly only to push forward a little bit further each time until, finally, he was buried to the hilt inside of him. Once he was fully seated, he stopped and simply enjoyed the feeling of Aramis engulfing him so completely. 

It was then, when he was paused, that he felt the slight quiver that was running through his lover’s body. His eyes snapped to Aramis’ and he was dismayed to see tears glistening within them. “Love?” he queried, scared he had pushed too far after all.

“I am alright,” Aramis sniffed as he tried to blink back the tears that threatened to fall.

“You don’t look alright to me,” Porthos said gently.

“I am,” Aramis insisted. “I…”

“Talk to me or this stops now,” Porthos said, refusing to put his lover’s well-being at risk.

“It is what I said before,” Aramis managed after taking a breath. “The feeling of being… taken… I have never… It is so _much_. Please, my Porthos, **take** me.”

Unable to refuse such a request, Porthos leaned down and kissed Aramis hotly. He thrust his tongue inside the man’s mouth and stroked along his tongue before pulling back to bite and suck at his lips. When he felt his control returning at least slightly, he pulled back once more.

“Mine,” Porthos growled low and deep as he began to thrust inside Aramis. He kept his movements shallow at first but when Aramis began to make his pleasure known he began to thrust harder, intent on giving his lover what he seemed to want so badly. 

Porthos knew he was not going to last much longer. The extended foreplay had gotten him too worked up. And the way Aramis was moving beneath him, along with the knowledge of just what he was giving Porthos, was tearing his control to shreds. Sooner than he would have liked, he felt the tell-tale coiling in his belly and began to thrust harder, intent on spending inside his lover.

Aramis felt Porthos begin to speed up and knew he must be close. His own cock tried valiantly to stir at the thought but was unable to rise again so soon. That was alright by Aramis. He did not think he could survive another orgasm tonight with his sanity intact anyway. Feeling Porthos’ thrusts begin to grow erratic, Aramis gazed up at him, wanting to watch his face as he spent inside of him. 

The look of adoration on Aramis’ face as he looked up at Porthos was the last straw. With a strangled shout, he thrust hard, slamming inside of him and began to spend. By the time he was finished, he lay panting atop Aramis, his full weight resting on the smaller man as his body shivered with the aftershocks.

Knowing he had to be crushing the other man, Porthos managed to lift himself up enough to carefully slide from Aramis’ body then roll to the side. He lay there for a bit, letting his heart settle once more, hands idly stroking over any part of Aramis he could reach.

“You alright?” Porthos asked once he could think again.

“Yes,” Aramis said as he turned his head to look at him. “I am perfect. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, love,” Porthos told him. “That was… I don’t have the words.”

“Hmm… same here,” Aramis agreed. 

Porthos lay beside him for a little longer then got up to get the basin and towels to clean them up. Once the traces of their lovemaking were wiped away, he got back into bed beside Aramis and pulled the blankets over them. 

“I love you,” Porthos said as he pulled Aramis into his arms. “More than I love anyone else in the whole world. You mean everything to me and I’d gladly spend the rest of my life makin’ you happy.”

“I love you as well,” Aramis told him. “Never believe otherwise.”

“I know,” Porthos told him. “And I know your love for Athos doesn’t diminish your love for me. You have a very great heart and there is room in there for the both of us. I will never begrudge you the place you have set aside in it for him.”

“You are too good to me.”

“That is impossible.”


	38. Chapter 38

Part 38

D’Artagnan awoke first as he tended to whenever he and Athos shared a bed. He wondered if it was his unconscious way of spending as much time with the man as he could, even if the man was only sleeping. It wasn’t long, however, before Athos blinked his eyes open and looked at him.

“Good morning,” D’Artagnan told him then leaned toward him for a kiss.

“Good morning,” Athos replied once D’Artagnan released his mouth. He stayed where he was, enjoying the feeling of the younger man against him. When he looked at him, however, he could see that there were questions whirling inside of him. 

“What is it?” Athos prompted when it became clear that the other man was not going to speak on his own.

“How did you know? About the others, that is. That you had feelings for them?” D’Artagnan asked a bit disjointedly.

Athos thought for a moment, understanding how much this was apparently weighing on the other man. “I am not sure that I can name something specific,” he began. “They were my brothers first. Then my dearest friends, closer to me than anyone. It grew from that, I suppose. I had known of my attraction to men for quite a while. It was a rather discriminate thing and, as you know, I only ever acted on it once before… all of this, but I knew it was there. 

“I found myself attracted to Aramis first. I doubt that is a surprise. He is a sight even when he is not trying to seduce someone. The physical attraction, coupled with the regard I already held for him, well… I think you can understand how easily that morphed into love.”

“What about Porthos?” D’Artagnan asked. He was trying to work everything out in his head. He could understand how Athos’ attraction to Aramis had turned into love. He had experienced something quite similar with Athos himself after all. But he did not understand how Porthos fit in. Did Athos truly desire him? Or was he simply going along with things for Aramis’ sake? And if he did want him, was it merely physical, or was there love there as well?

“I can practically see the thoughts spinning inside your head,” Athos told him, trying to draw him back. “What is it you truly wish to know, D’Artagnan? Tell me and I shall answer you if I am able.”

“I just… I wish to understand is all.”

“Why?”

“Because I find myself confused again,” he confessed, averting his eyes.

Athos paused for a moment at that. He had expected to hear something about jealousy or worry about his place again. He had not expected this. “Look at me, love,” he said softly. He waited until D’Artagnan returned his eyes to his before speaking again. “What is it you are confused about? Is it me? Or is it something else?”

“Some-something else,” he said.

“Alright,” Athos said evenly. He placed a soft kiss on his lover’s mouth trying to convey that he was not upset with him. “I know that you sometimes need time to work things out for yourself. I will not press. When you are ready to tell me, you will. Just know that I am here for you. All of your brothers are.”

When they finally rose from the bed and ventured into the rest of the house they found the other two sitting at the table talking quietly. D’Artagnan offered a quick greeting them disappeared into the kitchen to prepare breakfast for them, a flush staining his cheeks as he realized that the others were probably quite aware of what occurred the night before. 

Moving to kiss his lovers good morning, Athos noticed a tension in Aramis. Frowning, he glanced at Porthos and read the worry in his eyes. A single look between them was enough to let him know that this was something he alone needed to address.

“Take a walk with me, love?” Athos said, holding his hand out to Aramis.

Aramis’ eyes shot up to Athos’ face, a moment of irrational panic gripping him. A second later he had schooled his features once more. He took Athos’ hand and let the man lead him from the house and out toward the stables where they might have some privacy.

“Tell me what is wrong,” Athos said once they were alone. He did not relinquish Aramis’ hand, wanting the physical connection between them right now.

“Tis nothing, Athos,” Aramis said, trying to brush it off.

“I know that is not true,” Athos insisted. “You know there is nothing you cannot tell me. Please, do not hide your pain from me.”

Aramis hesitated. He had promised them he would get his jealousy under control. But he could not help the niggling doubts that plagued him. Finally he said, “Your young lover seems rather happy this morning.”

Athos nodded. “We had a good night, though he still worries of overstepping his place.”

“I will speak with him again and let him know he has nothing to fear,” Aramis said his voice coming out flat and wooden despite his best efforts. He looked away then, unable to meet Athos’ eyes. “After all, it is not like you would be so foolish as to choose me over someone as young and unbroken as our dear D’Artagnan.”

Athos stared at him, dumbstruck. It was as if all of the pieces finally slotted into place and he understood exactly what was upsetting Aramis so much. He reached out and took Aramis’ face in his hand and gently turned him to look at him once more. 

“I will give him up this instant if that is what it takes to make you know that I love you,” Athos told him, his voice as serious as Aramis had ever heard it. “Make no mistake, Aramis, I do love D’Artagnan, but I love you more. And if I must choose only one of you to have at my side then I choose you. I will always and ever choose you.”

Aramis searched his lover’s face for any sign that what he was saying was not the absolute truth. When he could find none, he gripped Athos’ shirt tightly and pulled him forward burying his face against his neck. He stayed like that for long minutes, finally able to let go of some of the fears that had been plaguing him so much of late.

Athos held him, running his hands up and down his back, attempting to soothe him as best he could. He could feel him slowly start to calm and kept it up, whispering into Aramis’ ear how much he loved him and how he could not bear to live without him.

Finally, when Aramis had calmed sufficiently, Athos pulled back just enough to be able to look at him. “Can you tell me, love, what it is about D’Artagnan that you fear so? Is it… is it simply that he thinks he loves me?”

Aramis looked away again, ashamed that his fears had brought them to this. Athos, however, refused to let him and made him face him once more. If he was going to have to break the lad’s heart after promising him just the night before that he would do no such thing, he wanted to at least understand why.

Aramis was relieved to find no anger on his lover’s face, only honest curiosity. Taking a breath, Aramis tried to put his fears into words. “He… he has so much to offer you that I do not,” he began. “Youth, beauty, his unspoiled nature, his innocence… the way he openly worships you… How can I hope to compare to that?”

Athos sighed and pulled Aramis tight against him once more, letting him bury his face against his neck again. “I will speak with D’Artagnan,” he told him. “I will tell him that what we had can no longer be and hope the lad can find it in his heart to forgive me.”

Aramis jerked back from him as if scalded. He looked at Athos in genuine horror at the thought of hurting either of them in such a way. “You most certainly will not,” he said once he recovered his voice. “It would break D’Artagnan’s heart. I will not have you do that. Not for me.”

“Do you not understand?” Athos said fiercely, gripping Aramis by the arms as if to shake him. “I put no man before you. Not D’Artagnan. Not Porthos. Not the king. No one. You are my heart and I will not deliberately cause you pain. If my being with D’Artagnan hurts you then it ends.”

“Mi querido,” Aramis whispered, awed by Athos’ show of such utter devotion. “Give me time. I will adjust to this, I promise. It is all so new and there have been so many changes. I should have known better than to let my foolish fears get the better of me.”

“Your fears are not foolish. Your concerns are genuine. Did I not have similar concerns about you and Porthos? Did I not try to walk away thinking it would be for the best for everyone? I was wrong then as you are wrong now.”

“I do so love you, my dear Athos,” Aramis said. He leaned forward and kissed him then, soft and gentle like the kisses they had first shared and was pleased when Athos released his hold on his arms to pull him against him once more. 

“And I you. More than anything.”

Aramis basked in the attention, letting the surety of Athos’ words chase away his lingering doubts. As they stayed there, something Athos said began to eat at him and he wanted to address it while they were still alone.

“Athos, there is something you said that troubles me,” he said, careful to keep his voice light even as he kept a firm grip on Athos’ shirt so he could not move away from him.

“And what was that?” Athos asked. He could not think of anything he said that should give Aramis pause but then again, Aramis could find reason to worry about the oddest of things.

“You said that D’Artagnan *thinks* he loves you. Do you truly believe that?”

Athos hesitated unsure for how much of his earlier conversation with D’Artagnan he should divulge. Not wanting any secrets between them, and remembering D’Artagnan’s own words in that regard, he decided to tell Aramis. “He is still confused,” he said at last. 

“Surely not about you,” Aramis insisted.

“I don’t know,” Athos admitted. “He was asking me this morning how I came to know I had feelings for you and Porthos that were other than brotherly. I explained as best I could, though I’m not sure it helped at all. He said he was not confused about me, that it was something else, but in truth, I don’t know if he even realizes what it is at this point.”

“I see,” Aramis said, taking in everything Athos had just told him. “He is young and this is all so very new to him. It is no wonder he finds himself unsure. And I have not helped in that regard, I know.”

“You have been more generous than either of us has any right to expect. It is his own mistrust that causes his fear. When he can let that go, the fear will go as well.”

“Ever our wise Athos,” Aramis smiled. He took a deep breath to steady himself. He had one last thing to tell Athos and, while he did not think his lover would be upset over it, he was unsure of exactly how he might react.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me,” Athos said softly, his arms tightening around Aramis. He had not missed the way he had seemed to steel himself in his arms.

“And a mind reader to boot,” Aramis quipped.

“If I were a mind reader you would not need to tell me,” Athos replied. 

“Wouldn’t that make everything so much easier. But no. It is nothing bad, I assure you.”

“Then why are you so worried about telling me?”

“Because, when it comes to you, I act an idiot more times than I care to admit.”

“Aramis…”

“Porthos and I made love last night,” Aramis said in a rush.

“And you worried for telling me this?” Athos asked, not understanding.

“He… I let him… That is, I asked him…”

“Ah. I see,” Athos replied then fell silent as he digested this new information. “Did you… enjoy it?”

“Yes,” Aramis breathed against him, remembering the way Porthos had made him feel – both cherished and plundered at the same time.

“Then all is well,” Athos told him. 

“You are not upset?”

“No. As long as you enjoyed it then I can voice no objection.”

“I…”

“Peace, Aramis,” Athos soothed him. “I do believe I understand. This was about laying your demons to rest. It is only right that it should be Porthos to help you do that.”

“Thank you,” Aramis said softly, marveling again at Athos’ understanding and willingness to step aside for another.

“Will you… tell me of it?” Athos asked hesitantly. “Not now, of course. But… sometime?”

“Yes,” Aramis told him. And he would. He would tell Athos anything he wanted to know. He and Porthos both would. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“Everything alright?” D’Artagnan asked when he found Porthos alone at the table.

“Yeah,” Porthos said. “They just needed a few minutes to themselves. You need any help?” He wanted to reassure the lad that everything would be fine, but he did not want to lie. This would be hard enough on him if it went poorly as it was. 

“I can manage,” he replied with a shake of his head and returned to preparing breakfast for them all. 

By the time Athos and Aramis returned to the house, D’Artagnan was just laying breakfast out for them. Porthos grinned when he saw them hand in hand then beamed when he saw that the tension and worry of the night before were nowhere to be found. 

Breakfast was a bit more quiet than usual as D’Artagnan seemed lost to his thoughts once more. Both Porthos and Aramis cast worried glances at Athos but he merely shook his head, letting them know to let it be for now. They had also come to understand that their youngest often needed time to work through things on his own before being willing to speak of them aloud. While it was hard for them to simply sit back and watch him struggle, they would respect his wishes in this.

Once they were done eating, to no one’s surprise, D’Artagnan excused himself to go tend to their horses. He said he wanted to take a couple of them out for a ride to make sure they were getting enough exercise. They let him go without a fight, knowing it was his way of ensuring they did not come looking for him before nightfall. 

“He is troubled again,” Porthos said once he was out the door.

“Yes,” Athos agreed. “But he is not ready to speak of it yet. We shall give him time. If he does not speak of it soon then we will try a different approach.”

“I don’t like it,” Porthos grumbled. Sitting and waiting had never been his strong suit. It chafed at him to do nothing while one of his brothers was so obviously distressed.

“I know,” Aramis said, giving him a quick kiss. “But, for what it is worth, I do not think it is overly serious this time. I think he is just… confused… as Athos said and needs to sort through things in his head.”

“Confused?” Porthos asked.

“The lad is confused,” Athos shrugged. “About what, exactly, I am unsure. He says it is not about me, but I do not know if that is entirely true. I have a feeling it is about all of us to one degree or another.”

“You don’t think he plans on leaving, do you?” Porthos asked worriedly.

Athos and Aramis both froze at his question. Neither of them had even considered such a thing. “Absolutely not,” Aramis said. “He is too invested to do something so blatantly stupid. And if he did, he would not be allowed to get ten feet before he was brought to heel.”

“Easy, love,” Athos said, coming up behind him and rubbing his hands up and down Aramis’ arms. He could feel the anger radiating off of him at the very thought of D’Artagnan attempting to leave their brotherhood. “I am the only one stupid enough to try something like that.”

Aramis allowed himself to be placated, but only because he could see an answering determination in Porthos’ eyes and knew without looking that Athos’ held a similar expression. If their Whelp got it in his head to be so foolish, he would not be the only one to drag him back, kicking and screaming if necessary.

Hoping to change the subject to something less volatile, Athos looked to Porthos. “Aramis told me of last night,” he said. “I am glad you were able to give him that. That he was able to put the past to rest and take that step with you.”

Porthos felt his face heat at Athos’ words. He knew they needed to tell him and should have known that Aramis would take the opportunity of being alone with him to do so. “You know we…”

“I know all I need to for now,” Athos broke in. “But, when you are ready, I would like to know more of it.”

Porthos watched him, looking for any sign that Athos was not as accepting as he appeared to be. When he saw none, he nodded. “Then you shall,” he agreed. 

D’Artagnan surprised them all by returning well before dark. He found them once more ensconced in the library, this time with Porthos and Athos sitting on a small settee, his head in Athos’ lap, the man idly stroking his fingers through his hair as he read. Aramis was seated in a chair across from them, reading a book of his own and stealing subtle glances at the pair. 

“You’re back early,” Athos said, setting his book aside. He made no move to rise and when Porthos shifted as if to get up, he tightened his hand, letting him know to stay put.

“Just needed a bit to get my thoughts in order some,” he replied, taking up one of the vacant chairs in the room. “I’m surprised you’re not in the other room where you can all sit together.”

“Hmmm,” Aramis hummed. “We tend to get… distracted whenever the divan is involved.”

“Really?” D’Artagnan teased, his eyes alight. 

“Brat,” Aramis teased back, glad to see that whatever conclusions the younger man might have come to had at least left him in good spirits.

“Pot, kettle,” D’Artagnan replied then had to quickly duck to avoid the book Aramis tossed at his head, his boyish laughter filling the small room and making the other inhabitants chuckle.


	39. Chapter 39

Part 39

That night found them back in their usual places. This time, however, D’Artagnan sat on the floor leaning up against the divan next to Athos. Athos ran his hand through the younger man’s hair absently, enjoying having him near while still being able to enjoy the closeness of the others. Understanding what a step this was for D’Artagnan, Athos made sure to keep some part of him in constant contact with him, letting physical touch provide an anchor for him.

Aramis and Porthos both understood the step the lad had taken as well and were doing their best to restrain themselves without seeming to pull away from Athos. It was a delicate balancing act but, for now, they were managing it.

It was because of that, that Athos almost hated to bring up the subject of his back but he knew he needed to and he wanted to do it when they were all together. Letting his hand move from D’Artagnan’s hair down to the back of his neck, he steeled himself and began. “Aramis thinks my back is improved sufficiently that I might start work on relearning some of the moves I can no longer do.”

“What?” Porthos asked turning to look at Athos in confusion. 

Athos had felt D’Artagnan go still under his hand and knew he understood what he was doing. “There are some few of my prior moves that I will no longer be able to do. Or at least not in the way I did them before,” he said as matter of factly as he could. “The loss of flexibility is slight, but it is enough to be noticeable. I am sure it will not take me long to learn to compensate, however.”

Porthos could only stare at Athos as his words sank in. He had done this. He had not only left Athos with permanent scars but he had caused the man a permanent injury. And for a swordsman of Athos’ caliber, the loss of even a small amount of flexibility could prove fatal. Suddenly, Porthos found himself having to swallow to keep from being sick right there and he blinked back impotent tears.

The silence in the room grew thick and heavy with none of them really knowing what to say. Aramis had known, of course, as he had been treating Athos’ wounds from the beginning and D’Artagnan had at least been warned by Treville. Porthos, though, appeared to have been blind-sided and was not taking the news well at all.

“When did you want to start working on it?” D’Artagnan asked, hoping to break the awful silence that had fallen. 

Athos squeezed his neck affectionately in response. He started to reply but was stopped when Porthos suddenly shot to his feet. The bigger man mumbled an excuse me and fled the room as quickly as he could without actually running.

“Well,” Aramis said after a moment. “That could have gone better.”

“Yes,” Athos agreed. “I did not think he would react so strongly still.”

“He still feels a great deal of guilt over what happened,” Aramis sighed. “Let’s give him a moment to calm himself and then I’ll go and talk to him.”

When Aramis went in search of Porthos a short while later, he found him outside leaning against one of the columns and taking in great gulps of air. Aramis made sure to make enough noise as he approached so as not to startle the man then waited until Porthos acknowledged him before speaking.

“I shall tell you again that is not your fault,” he said, “though I know it is not something you wish to hear right now.”

Porthos turned and glared hotly at the other man. “And when it gets him killed?” he snapped. “When his inability to move as he should, as he always has, gets him a sword through his guts, will you still say it was not my fault?”

“Yes. And so will he, if he still has the breath left in him to do so.” With that, Aramis spun around and went back into the house, slamming the door loudly behind him.

A few minutes later, Porthos heard someone else come outside and was surprised to find D’Artagnan. He merely snarled at the boy before turning away from him, hoping that ignoring him would send him on his way.

“You know, I don’t know what you said, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen Aramis quite that angry before. I mean, I don’t know half of the Spanish he was spitting out but… well… I didn’t really need to understand the words to get the sentiment behind them.”

“You gonna tell me it ain’t my fault, too?” Porthos growled.

“Oh no,” D’Artagnan said with a shake of his head making Porthos spin around to look at him. “Wouldn’t dream of it. You did this. Well, your hands did anyway. And you best remember it. Every time he goes into battle, you damn well better remember it and you damn well better be at his back… or make sure one of his brothers is anyway. Long as you do that, I got nothing else to say.” With that, D’Artagnan headed back inside, letting the door swing shut quietly behind him.

Aramis was surprised when Porthos walked back inside of his own accord a short while after D’Artagnan. He watched as the man nodded at their youngest then sat down on his end of the divan. 

“I’m sorry,” Porthos said softly as he took Aramis’ hand and held it. “I had no right to speak to you that way.”

“Quite alright,” Aramis said after a moment. He looked down at D’Artagnan sitting back in the floor. “Whatever in the world did you _say_ to him, D’Artagnan?”

D’Artagnan just laughed and shook his head. He had no intention of sharing their conversation with the others. He had a feeling neither Aramis nor Athos would take it in the same vein that Porthos had if he did.

Athos watched the by-play between the others and felt some of his worries finally ease. Not all of them, by any means. After all, D’Artagnan had yet to tell them what had been troubling him so. With that in mind, Athos thought now might be as good a chance as any to approach him about it. 

“Will you tell us now what was troubling you so much earlier?” Athos asked D’Artagnan. 

D’Artagnan went still for a moment then relaxed. “Just trying to figure everything out I guess. It’s… confusing. What I want… what you want… what they want…”

“And do you know what it is you want?” Aramis asked, taking a chance on addressing D’Artagnan directly rather than simply allowing Athos to do all of the talking where their youngest was concerned.

“No bloody clue,” D’Artagnan laughed darkly. “I know I want Athos but that’s about all I know for certain. Other things get… unclear.”

“Unclear how?” Aramis pressed, careful not to go too far. He was glad the boy was talking to them. The last thing he wanted was for him to feel embarrassed and stop.

D’Artagnan hesitated again, unsure of just how honest he should be. If it were only Athos, he would speak the truth and not worry. He felt Athos’ hand grip his shoulder and took courage. If he could not trust his brothers with the truth of it then what was the point of any of this? 

“There are… things… that I think of… sometimes,” he began haltingly. “And I don’t know if I think of them because I desire them or… Well, of course it’s because I desire them, but it’s what exactly I desire that I am unsure of. Do I desire the person I am thinking of? Or do I desire the act that I am imagining and the person is mostly irrelevant? And if it is the person, is it the person himself, or is it the… the _having_ of that person that makes the act so appealing? I am not explaining this well at all.”

“On the contrary, you are explaining it very well,” Aramis replied. “If I may?”

“Please,” D’Artagnan nodded, eager for any insight into the confusion churning within in.

“As an example,” Aramis began, “you do not, as you say, know if your idle thought of having a man who is **not** Athos suck you is simply because of a desire to have your cock sucked, a desire for that man in particular or, perhaps, a desire to maybe see that man put on his knees before you? Maybe even whilst Athos looks on?”

D’Artagnan swallowed thickly, the picture Aramis had just painted with his words as clear as day in his mind’s eye. And in his mind’s eye it was not any man on his knees taking D’Artagnan’s cock in his mouth with Athos watching. It was Aramis. The broken gasp that escaped his lips drew all of his brothers’ attention and he felt himself blush hotly even as he looked away.

He felt Athos’ hand tighten on his shoulder then move to the back of his neck. It massaged soothingly even as the man held his tongue allowing D’Artagnan time to process all Aramis had said and finish coming to whatever epiphany he must have seemed to.

“D’Artagnan, look at me,” Aramis urged gently. 

Unable to deny that particular tone of Aramis’ any more than Athos or Porthos could, D’Artagnan turned back to face him. His face still burned with shame at what he had pictured but he met Aramis’ eyes anyway.

“No need for that now,” Aramis chided softly. “There is no need for shame among brothers. Whatever you have thought of… whatever picture has appeared in your mind to give you such fright… there is no need for it. You will find no censure with us. Surely you know this by now.”

“You would not say that if you knew what it was…” D’Artagnan trailed off.

“Don’t you mean who?” Aramis countered, letting a touch of coyness color his voice.

D’Artagnan felt his heart begin to pound. Surely there was no way for even Aramis to know the image that his words had invoked inside his mind. But from the way Aramis was looking at him, if he did not know the he surely suspected and if Aramis suspected then how much longer would it be before Athos found out?

“Easy, Whelp,” Porthos said. Even he could see the boy was panicking. “Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad. I doubt anything short of you wantin’ to bed the Cardinal would cause Athos to do more than raise an eyebrow.”

“Good God, Porthos,” Aramis grimaced. “Warn a man before you say something like that!”

“Hush, you,” Porthos told him then turned his attention back to D’Artagnan. “I mean it, Whelp. Whatever it is or even _whoever_ it is you’re thinkin’ of, it’s not that bad.”

“D’Artagnan,” Aramis tried again, hoping to calm the younger man enough to be able to speak to them about whatever it was that frightened him so. “Is it simply the person that has you so discomfited or is it how you interact with this person that bothers you so?”

“Why do you insist on beating around the bush about it?” D’Artagnan asked, his voice low and pained. “You know full well that the person is you. There is no need to pretend otherwise.”

“Very well then,” Aramis said as calmly as ever. “Is it simply because you were surprised that I was the person who should appear in your fantasy or is it the nature of the fantasy itself that troubles you?”

“You do not seem surprised,” D’Artagnan said, apropos of nothing.

“Why would I be?” Aramis shrugged. “Fantasies are just that, fantasies. They often mean nothing. Especially if they are of the involuntary rather than the deliberate sort.”

“Even if they are degrading?”

“I have often found that one man’s definition of degradation is another man’s definition of ecstasy.”

D’Artagnan gaped at him then shook his head almost violently. “Do not do this,” he ground out harshly. “Do you think I do not remember what was nearly done to you? Do you think me ignorant of how hard you have struggled to overcome those things? For me to imagine, even without meaning to…”

“D’Artagnan,” Aramis sighed and closed his eyes. He moved forward and slid to the floor so that he was eye to eye with the other man. “A fantasy does not hurt me. Even one you would consider degrading in some way. It does me no harm. It betrays neither me nor Athos nor Porthos nor even yourself. And I meant what I said, lad. One man’s degradation is often another man’s ecstasy. And a liberty I would not grant a drunken stranger in an alley is not necessarily one I would not willingly grant a brother should he ever ask it of me.”

D’Artagnan suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe. He started to shake, too many fears crashing in on him at once. Fear of hurting Aramis in some way. Fear of what the man would think of him. Fear of what Athos would think of him. All at once, he felt strong arms wrap around him and pull him against a firm, lean chest and hold him there.

“Shhh, hush now,” Aramis soothed as he held D’Artagnan to him as tightly as he could. He had not meant to push the boy like this. He had only wanted to get him to **talk** to them, to tell them what was in his heart so that they might help him to bear it, not so that he might rip his own soul to shreds with misplaced guilt.

It felt like the most natural thing in the world for D’Artagnan to slip his arms around Aramis’ waist and return the embrace, though not nearly as strongly. It wasn’t long before he felt a weight behind him and realized that Athos had slipped down to the floor with them and had molded himself along his back. Opening his eyes, which he had not even realized he’d closed, he saw that Porthos had joined them as well and was pressed along Aramis’ back, leaving just enough space for D’Artagnan’s arms around the man.

“You did not all have to join me in the floor,” D’Artagnan rasped, his voice strained as if he’d been crying.

“We stand with our brother,” Athos replied, repeating D’Artagnan’s own words back to him.

“Well, kneel in this case,” Aramis quipped. It had the desired effect, causing the younger man to laugh weakly. “Better?”

“How could I not be when I am so very sheltered,” he said. He paused for only a moment, then turned his face into Aramis’ neck and kissed him there quick and light before turning away again and laying his head on his shoulder.

“Oh, you precious boy,” Aramis breathed, touched at D’Artagnan’s uncharacteristic display towards him. 

Athos and Porthos had not missed the almost innocent kiss and the two shared a look over the heads of the others. At Porthos’ nod, Athos ventured forth. “That was one of the most beautiful things I have seen in a very long time,” he whispered into D’Artagnan’s ear just loud enough for the other two to hear.

“Indeed,” Porthos agreed, wanting the lad to know that no offense had been taken to by him to either his words or deeds this day. Aramis had spoken the truth when he tried to tell the boy that fantasies were innocent enough, at least in that they did Aramis himself no harm. Getting their innocent and far too over-protective Gascon to believe that, however, might prove a bit of a challenge.

“If you will not tell me what it is that you imagined that upset you so, will you least tell Athos or Porthos?” Aramis asked, willing to compromise if D’Artagnan would at least agree to talk to one of them. “I do not care which. Whichever one you would most feel at east speaking to about it, but please, I implore you, speak of it to one of us. For my own peace of mind, if for no other reason.”

“Does it truly worry you so much?” D’Artagnan asked, still a bit surprised at how much Aramis worried for him.

“Yes,” Aramis admitted honestly. “Only in that it hurts you and makes you fearful of how we might react. I find I do not much care for anything that makes you fear us and I would do whatever I could to ease that fear, but I cannot do so if I do not know from whence it springs?”

Taking a shuddering breath, D’Artagnan tightened his hold on Aramis’ waist, closed his eyes and began to talk. “It was as you said. I had you on your needs while I stood over you… with Athos watching.” He could see it clearly still. Aramis kneeling there, D’Artagnan’s hand wrapped in his hair, that smirking mouth stretched around him.

“Shhh…” Aramis soothed, running his hands up and down D’Artagnan’s back as much as he could with Athos pressed against him. He could feel him start to shake again and felt at a loss. “Surely… surely that is not the whole of it. It cannot be, not for you to be this frightened… not for you to consider it a degradation.”

“It… was not respectful,” D’Artagnan tried to explain then stopped. He realized he was going to have to spell it out if he was going to make Aramis understand. “I was not doing it because I wanted to… I was doing it to… to…”

“Oh,” Aramis said then smiled as understanding finally dawned. “You were doing it to put me in my place.”

The sound D’Artagnan made could only be described as broken and if the three of them had not had such a tight hold on him he would have slipped from their grasp. As it was he nearly managed to break free, but Aramis hung onto him, refusing to let go and eventually managed to pull him back flush against him with Athos and Porthos helping to keep their youngest in place.

“Stop that now,” Aramis scolded tenderly. “No trying to leave. That’s Athos’ trick. You’re not allowed to steal it.”

“I’m sorry,” D’Artagnan told him again and again, his face buried in Aramis’ neck once more.

“Stop that as well. You have nothing to be sorry for. Did I not tell you that a fantasy does me no harm?”

“I should not…”

“Oh please,” Aramis cut in before he could start. “Do you have any idea the number of times Porthos has had that particular fantasy even before all of this? I have actually been known to instill that particular desire in quite a few people.”

“Point them out to me and I’ll cut their hearts out,” D’Artagnan told him, only partially kidding.

“That’s our Whelp,” Aramis teased. He pulled back a bit to look at the other man. “I do mean it though. A fantasy does me no harm. Regardless of how degrading you might think it is. Besides, what you described, well, it is not exactly something I would refuse you, if you should ever ask it of me.” He felt D’Artagnan stiffen in his arms and wondered if he had overstepped himself. A fantasy was one thing after all, the reality of it was oftentimes something else entirely.

“You should not speak so,” D’Artagnan said, a trace of fear creeping back into his voice.

“And why is that?” Porthos asked, believing he understood the issue or at least part of it. 

“You do not truly believe Porthos or I would object, do you?” Athos asked, understanding Porthos’ meaning immediately. 

D’Artagnan looked up at Porthos then turned his head to look at Athos. The look he gave the two was hard and the two men could not tell who he was angry at, them or himself. “If you would not object to someone treating your lover as anything other than precious then we three shall have a problem,” he told them earnestly.

“No no no no no,” Aramis said, pulling D’Artagnan’s face back around so he was looking at him. “I see we have forgotten again how very young you are, mon cher. Everything is so very black and white with you. But there are a thousand shades of grey between the two as well. Enough of this for now, though. We shall talk of this more in the days to come. For now simply trust me that your fantasies do me no harm."


	40. Chapter 40

Part 40

They did speak more if in the days to come. Aramis made it a point to seek D’Artagnan out and broach the subject with him, sometimes with Athos or Porthos nearby, but more often alone. He found that the younger man would often speak more freely if it was just the two of them. He wondered if it was the more detached air he always brought to their discussions or if he was still unconsciously fearful of some sort of censure from one of the others. 

The more they talked the more he was able to make D’Artagnan understand that the fantasy itself was harmless. He was even making headway in getting him to understand that the _acting out_ of that fantasy could be just as harmless as well, if done correctly. He knew he would very probably require the help of his two lovers to fully drive the lesson home but he was starting to lay the ground work.

“I still do not understand how you would not find it degrading to be treated in such a way,” D’Artagnan said. He was not trying to be obstinate but genuinely trying to understand Aramis’ point of view on the matter. “If Porthos were to treat you so…”

“If Porthos were to **mean** it, then yes, I would be quite devastated,” Aramis said. “And that, mon cher, is the difference. What Porthos pretends to do or say or feel and what is truly in his heart, they are not necessarily the same thing, not when one is acting out such a fantasy.” 

D’Artagnan thought about that for a while. It made sense, he just did not see how Porthos, or any of them really, could bring himself to act in such a way even if he did not truly mean it. “I don’t think I could do that,” he said at last. “To treat someone I care for so…”

“And if you knew that would bring them pleasure?” Aramis asked. “If you knew that this was their fantasy rather than yours, could you do it then?”

D’Artagnan opened his mouth to respond then closed it again. He pictured Aramis, on his knees, practically begging to be used and he knew he would never be able to do it. Not outside of his own head anyway. “No,” he said shaking his head. “I do not believe I could. I do not believe I could hurt one of you no matter how much you might desire it. Not and live with myself afterwards.”

“Do not say that,” Aramis said fiercely. “Never that. We are all of us different men. We all have… limits. If this is yours then it will be respected. But, will you at least let us demonstrate how it can be? Just once. And if it is too much then you may call a halt to it at any time and we shall never ask such a thing of you again.”

“Can I think about it?”

“Of course,” Aramis replied at once. “And if you do not wish to even consider it, then that is alright as well. You know your own mind better than we do. If you say this is not something you can tolerate then so be it.”

“You make it all sound so easy.”

“Hah,” Aramis laughed. “If you think _any_ of this is easy then I have fooled you utterly. Even now, we seek to find our footing between the four of us. I do not think it will ever be easy, but I know it is worth it. And I know that I will fight for what we have with everything that I am.”

“You will not fight alone, brother,” D’Artagnan promised. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

While Aramis was busying himself working with D’Artagnan and his issues, Athos had taken on the onus of working through the reemergence of Porthos’ guilt. He did it under the guise of sparring together both to get his body back into fighting condition and to see how much the scars on his back would truly limit him. He had no doubt they would. Even doing mundane tasks sometimes pulled them taut. He had no misconceptions about what attempting to use a sword with his usual flourish would do.

The first few days they kept things easy, working on gently stretching muscles that had not been taxed in weeks. Each day they pushed a bit harder until finally Athos asked Porthos to actually duel him. 

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” Porthos asked. It was not that he doubted Athos, he was simply not in no hurry to see the true consequences of what he had done.

“I am sure,” Athos told him. “I trust you. And it is past time we see how much I shall need to relearn.” He was careful with how he phrased it, never referring to it as something lost to him, but rather as something new to be taught him. 

Porthos felt his temper flaring at Athos’ words and forced it back down. He wanted to reach out and shake the man until he stopped acting like everything was fine, like Porthos hadn’t taken the best swordsman in all of France and… and made sure he could never wear that title again.

“Porthos?” Athos queries when he saw the color literally drain from the man’s face. 

Porthos looked away and blinked. He opened his mouth to tell Athos how sorry he was then snapped it shut. Athos had made it clear that he did not want to hear any more apologies from him. The best he could do now was help his brother learn to compensate and pray that when the day came that Athos fell, he would be granted the mercy of falling first.

Straightening his shoulders, Porthos faced him again and raised his sword. “Ready?” he asked, pushing the guilt to the back of his mind. He needed to concentrate on Athos now. He could wallow in self-pity later.

“Do I need to have D’Artagnan speak with you again?” Athos asked as he raised his own sword. Neither he nor Aramis still knew what he had said to Porthos to bring him around so quickly but, whatever it was, it had worked and he had no qualms about using it again if need be.

“No,” Porthos snorted. “No need to sic the Whelp on me. Now let us see if we can pinpoint exactly where you will have the most difficulty.”

Athos nodded his agreement and they began to circle one another. “I do believe my cross-body reach will suffer the most,” he commented then lunged at Porthos in such a manner as to demonstrate.

Porthos could see at once that Athos was correct. He sheathed his sword and frowned then stepped to the side and had Athos execute the move again so that he could watch the way his muscles moved. 

“Take off your shirt,” he said when Athos had demonstrated the move again, once again coming up far short of where he would normally have.

“I do not believe nakedness will be conductive to our training,” Athos quipped but set down his sword and began to unlace his shirt any way.

“I need to see how your muscles move and I can’t see well enough with your shirt on,” Porthos told him.

Athos paused, not at all sure he wanted Porthos to be examining him, especially his back, that closely. Part of this exercise was trying to get Porthos used to the reminders of what they had all endured that were simply not going to go away, but he had no desire to do so in such a harsh manner. He had meant to ease Porthos into it.

“Stop stalling,” Porthos told him. “Not like I haven’t seen ‘em already.”

“I have no desire to hurt you,” Athos told him.

“I know that,” Porthos said irritably then stopped. He wasn’t upset with Athos and refused to take his mood out on the man. “Sorry. Just… this is hard for me, but you already know that. It’s why you’re doin’ this with me instead of the Whelp.”

“Would you rather I ask D’Artagnan to assist me?” Athos asked. If that was what Porthos wanted then Athos would concede. He would simply find another way to help his friend work past his guilt. One that did not involve shoving the very visible reminders of that horrible time in his face.

Porthos actually laughed out loud at that making Athos stare at him as if he’d lost his mind. When he had calmed again he tried to explain. “Whelp never told you what he said to me the last time I got so upset, did he?”

“No,” Athos replied. “Whenever Aramis or I ask him he just smiles and changes the subject.”

“Well, let’s just say the boy knows how to give a man a kick in the ass when he needs to,” Porthos said, unwilling to tell the man if D’Artagnan did not want him to know. “He made sure I knew where my responsibilities lie and he would _not_ take kindly to me shirking them.”

“I am not your responsibility, Porthos.”

“No, but making sure you can fight, that you can protect yourself when the time comes, that is.”

“I would know what it is D’Artagnan said to you,” Athos told him, not at all pleased about what he was hearing.

“Sorry, love, I’m not gonna tell you that. Boy didn’t want you to know and from the look on your face I can see why. He made his point, that’s all you need to know. Now come on, get that shirt off so I can try to see what’s causing you the problem.”

Knowing he would get no more from Porthos, Athos did as requested and finished removing his shirt. He threw it aside and took up his sword again. He went through the motion, letting Porthos watch him. He looked back at the man once he had completed it and waited for his observation.

“Do it again,” Porthos told him. “But slow it down this time. I want to try to see the way the various muscle groups are moving.”

Without a word, Athos moved back into position and executed the move again, this time at half speed, as if demonstrating the move to a new recruit for the first time. He felt the pull of the scars more harshly but did not know if it was due to the slower speed or simply because his muscles were growing fatigued from repeating the same move over and over. Once he had completed it, he turned to look at Porthos again, waiting to hear the verdict.

“It’s not as bad as I first thought,” he said. “Did it hurt more this last time? Looked like it did, but it’s always so hard to tell with you.”

Athos nodded and sheathed his sword, knowing they were done for the day. He knew better than to push too hard and end up worsening his healing muscles. “I’m not sure if it was the speed of the move or simply fatigue, though,” he admitted. 

“Leave the shirt off then,” Porthos told him when he went to grab it. “Aramis will want to put something on those muscles to help with the soreness. And I’d like to show him where I think the problems are and get his opinion.”

With a rather surprising burst of speed, Athos moved in front of Porthos and took the man’s mouth in a heated kiss. “Thank you,” he said when he finally released him. “You always strive to take such good care of me and I so often fail to show you how much I truly appreciate it.”

“You do not have to thank me for this,” Porthos said. 

“But I want to,” Athos replied. He leaned up and kissed him again then, much gentler this time. “Let’s go back inside and clean up. Then we can see if Aramis is finished tying D’Artagnan in knots for the day.”

Porthos laughed at that then leaned down and stole a last kiss from Athos. He was as aware as Athos was of what Aramis was doing with the boy and it often left the lad with a great deal to think about. It also tended to leave him more than a little aroused which Aramis tended to blithely ignore even as Athos and Porthos found it equal parts amusing and endearing.

That night, Porthos pointed out what he considered the trouble spots to Aramis as the man applied a salve to Athos’ back and massaged the tense and slightly over-worked muscles. He had D’Artagnan watch closely so the younger man would be able to do the same if Athos needed him to and Aramis was unavailable. 

Aramis made a mental note of Porthos’ observations and told him to let him think on it a bit. He was sure, between the four of them, that they could up with something to either mitigate the limitation that was being imposed or find some way to work around it. 

Once Athos was dressed once more and they were taking up their customary places, he let his hand twine into D’Artagnan’s hair and gently tugged the younger man’s head back so he could look at him. “I would spend tonight with you, if you are amenable,” he said.

“I am always amenable,” D’Artagnan replied. “But do you not wish to be with Aramis and Porthos? I know Aramis has missed you a great deal today. And Porthos…”

“We will be fine,” Aramis interrupted with a disbelieving shake of his head. 

“I would speak with you and I believe you would be more at ease if it were just you and I,” Athos told him. At the momentary look of panic, he leaned down and brushed a soft kiss over his forehead. “There is nothing to fear, I promise.”

Knowing that D’Artagnan would only worry, Athos bid the others good-night and led the younger man back to their room a short time later. Once they were alone, he kissed him soundly, hoping to reassure him. “Let’s get comfortable,” he suggested when he pulled away and began slowly undressing. 

Once they were down to their small clothes, they settled on the bed with D’Artagnan lying back against Athos’ chest, the man’s legs stretched out on either side of him. It felt nice to be so surrounded by the other man. Safe and sheltered in a way that D’Artagnan did not often allow himself. 

“I know that you have been speaking with Aramis about the fantasies you have of him,” Athos began softly as he stroked his hands up and down D’Artagnan’s arms. “Will you tell me of them?”

“Wh-why do you wish to know?” D’Artagnan asked. He had been taken completely off guard by Athos’ request and did not know what to say. 

“Because I would know everything of you,” Athos told him. “Even the secret things you desire that you think you are somehow wrong for.”

“It is wrong,” D’Artagnan whispered. “I know the fantasy does not harm Aramis but that does not make it right for me to imagine such a thing in the first place. It does not make it right for me to find pleasure in it.”

“Tell me,” Athos implored. “Tell me so I can prove to you that it will not tarnish how I feel for you in some way. For that is one of the things you fear, is it not?”

“Of course it is. How could I not? He is your lover. The most precious person in your life and I get hard to the thought of putting him on his knees and… and fucking his mouth until he chokes… of _making_ him take me… of spilling my seed on his **face** …”

“Oh, love,” Athos said and pulled D’Artagnan around to face him. He kissed him hard, making sure the younger man felt exactly how aroused his words had made him. For while the thought of dominating Aramis himself did not especially appeal to Athos, the thought of watching D’Artagnan do it was like a fire rushing through his veins.

D’Artagnan moaned into the kiss as he felt Athos’ arousal. He had expected any number of reactions from Athos should the details of his secret thoughts become known but _this_ was certainly not one of them. That Athos would be _aroused_ by the thought of someone being so… so harsh… with Aramis seemed completely at odds with how they behaved toward one another. 

Unable to endure the cacophony of thoughts whirling about inside his head, D’Artagnan shoved Athos back from him, breaking the kiss. He stared at the man as if he’d never seen him before as he tried to both catch his breath and make some sense of things.

“D’Artagnan?” Athos queried softly. He held his hand out to the younger man but did not make to grab him or attempt to pull him back into a kiss. He could see the bewilderment in his eyes and knew he needed to be cautious lest he lose all of the precious ground Aramis had gained these past few days.

“I do not understand,” D’Artagnan said and the plaintive tone of his voice sounded so much like that of a lost child that Athos found himself moving forward and pulling him into his arms without thought.

“I am sorry,” he said as he simply held him. “I am an idiot. Please… let us forget we even spoke of this.”

D’Artagnan did not speak for so long that Athos thought he might actually have decided to simply pretend that the earlier incident had not happened. He should have known better, of course. This was D’Artagnan, after all, and the boy never allowed himself to take the easy way out.

“You are not the idiot,” he said at last as he let himself relax into Athos’ embrace. 

“Yes, I am. I knew you were struggling with this and yet I pushed you to speak of it with me when you clearly did not wish to and… and then I practically mauled you. You have every right to be disgusted with me.”

“You are not the one I am disgusted with,” D’Artagnan told him. “But… I do not understand your reaction? How can you find the thought of someone debasing him in such a way arousing?”

Athos pulled back from him slightly so that he could look at him. He could see that D’Artagnan had calmed somewhat and was relieved. “Can we sit down on the bed?” he asked, wanting to make them comfortable if he was going to try to explain just what he had found so stimulating.

“Of course,” D’Artagnan replied at once and they were soon sitting on the bed together with Athos propped up against the head and D’Artagnan resting against his chest.

“I am not very good at explaining things like this but I shall do my best,” Athos began then took a deep breath. “First, it was not _someone_ with Aramis, it was _you_. Had what you described been with anyone other than you or Porthos, I would have found the very idea revolting.”

“What about you?” D’Artagnan asked, surprised when Athos did not include himself.

“I… I do not normally prefer such a… a dominant role… in things,” Athos managed, hating the way he stammered as he spoke. 

“Oh. Is that why you have not… taken me?”

“Part of it,” Athos admitted. 

“Alright,” D’Artagnan said. “I did not mean to interrupt. Please continue.”

“Right. Well, as I said, first the person was not merely someone but one of my brothers… one of my _lovers_. And one of the two men I know would never do anything to truly harm Aramis in any way. Second, I… well, that is, I do not believe that **Aramis** would find what you described at all debasing.”

D’Artagnan jerked his head up to stare at Athos. “How can you say that? After what he has been through?”

“D’Artagnan,” Athos said soothingly. “As Aramis himself said, what he would deny a drunken **rapist** is not necessarily something he would deny a brother. There is a vast difference between willing giving your control to another and having some bastard try to take it from you without your consent. 

“Aramis is no innocent, even if he is new to the ways of men lying together. He has played many such games before, as both the dominant party and the one being dominated.” Athos paused a moment, trying to see if his words were having any effect. It seemed like D’Artagnan was calmer and that he was truly listening to what Athos was saying rather than rejecting it outright.

Encouraged, he decided to continue in the hopes of finally being able to make the other man understand. “In your fantasy, he sees himself there by choice, willingly handing over his control to you, because he knows he can trust you. To him, you are not _taking_ from him, you are not _making_ him do something he does not wish to. He is offering himself for your use… because he cares for you and wishes to bring you pleasure and that, in turn, will bring _him_ pleasure.”

D’Artagnan lay quietly in Athos’ arms, running his words over and over in his head. It was similar to what Aramis had been telling him yet it seemed almost like a last piece was slotting into place and he was finally starting to see how the whole of it might come together. He still had questions, but he knew they were ones only Aramis could truly answer. Though there was one that came to mind.

“He is not my lover,” D’Artagnan said breaking the stillness that had settled on the room and nearly making Athos’ start in surprise.

“Not as such, no,” Athos said, choosing his words very carefully. He vividly remembered the shy kiss D’Artagnan had bestowed on Aramis earlier that night as well as Aramis’ reaction to it.

“I am not sure I know how to interpret that,” D’Artagnan frowned, knowing Athos would hear it in his voice even if he could not see it.

“I only meant that I know you are not, at this time, his lover. However, I know that you obviously have some feelings for him. That much has been clear for quite some time now.”

“I would think the feelings I have made _clear_ would have you and Porthos warning me off rather than offering him up on a bloody platter.”

“Really?” Athos challenged. “Would those be the feelings of self-loathing for what you felt was a lack of respect for him? Or would it be the feelings of protectiveness you displayed when you actually threatened us should we allow anyone to treat him in such a manner?”

“Do you not know that it would utterly destroy me if I ever did anything to him that… that hurt him in some way? Even… even if it were to only frighten him. I do not think I could bear it, Athos. To see those eyes look to me in fear. The only thing worse would be to see the look in yours afterward.”

“How can you love us all so very much when we have given you so very little in return?” Athos held him tightly then, unable to do anything else for long moments. Finally, he found his voice again. “You must trust us. You must trust _Aramis_. He **will** stop you if you should go too far. And if he fails to, then trust that Porthos or I will. We would not allow you to err in this.”

“I… I need to speak with Aramis,” D’Artagnan told him. “I would know his mind more on this first. I know what it is you want. What it is you all seem to want and… I… I am amenable… as long as Aramis can assure me he will not be harmed in any way. I… I will not be responsible for causing my one of my brothers pain. Not intentionally. I would… I would _leave_ first, though it would break my heart. I would…”

“No! D’Artagnan, no,” Athos cut him off quickly, his heart thudding painfully in his chest at the thought of their youngest leaving them to _protect_ them. “Do not say that. Please. None of us want that.”

“Then give me time to reassure myself that I will not be doing harm in some way,” D’Artagnan told him firmly.

“Whatever time you need,” Athos promised. “Just do not leave us out of some misguided attempt to protect us. As Aramis said before, that is my trick and you are **not** allowed to steal it.”


	41. Chapter 41

Part 41

When Athos and Porthos left to spar as usual, D’Artagnan felt his resolve from the night before evaporate. He was unsure how to broach the subject of his and Athos’ conversation with Aramis. Luckily, Aramis was quite attuned to his emotions these days and knew something was definitely off with him.

“You are quiet this morning,” Aramis said gently encouraging him to talk.

“A lot on my mind, I guess.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“Not really,” he admitted. “I know we shall have to, but…”

“D’Artagnan, we do not have to do anything,” Aramis told him. “If you do not wish to speak of something then I will not force you to. I hope these talks of ours have not seemed that way to you.”

“No,” he smiled. “You have eased me into every conversation we have had, including this one. If only Athos had your deftness of speech.”

Aramis closed his eyes for a moment and bit back a groan. Oh what had his brother done now? “Do you want to tell me? If not, I can go and thrash it out of Athos.”

“That’s alright,” D’Artagnan chuckled. “He… he wanted to know about my fantasy. The… the specifics, that is. I told him, because, well, you know how insistent he can be. And he, um… got rather aroused.”

“And you did not take that well,” Aramis concluded for him then shook his head. “No, of course you would not have. You would have seen it as him becoming aroused at the thought of someone hurting me… of… well…”

“Yes,” D’Artagnan replied, his voice a bit strangled. He saw Aramis’ eyes go dark and hard and knew he was preparing some rather choice words for their brother. Hoping to defuse the situation, he rushed on. “But we talked about it.”

“You did?” Aramis asked, surprised and a bit unsure if that actually made things better or worse.

“Yes. He tried to explain… No, he _did_ explain… the difference, that is.”

“Perhaps you should start at the beginning,” Aramis suggested.

D’Artagnan exhaled sharply. “Can we at least move to the divan? I know it normally makes you want to have sex, but I really need to be closer right now.”

“I believe I can restrain myself,” Aramis snorted and rose. “But just this one. And just for you, mon cher.”

Once they were back in the main hall and comfortably seated, shoulders pressed together and fingers gently entwined, D’Artagnan began again. He told him about Athos’ reaction to his fantasy and his utter confusion at Athos’ arousal. “At the time, I could not understand how he could find the thought of you being harmed in such a way arousing. It went against everything I knew of the feelings you shared, both as brothers and lovers.”

“But Athos, he explained this?” Aramis prompted hopefully.

“Yes. It took him a bit, but he managed.”

“Would you tell me what he said?” Aramis asked. “I do not mean to pry if it is personal between the two of you, but I would help you with this if I am able and…”

“Peace, Aramis,” D’Artagnan said tightening the grip on his fingers for a moment. “I will tell you. Just… give me a moment to order my thoughts.”

“All the time you need, love.”

D’Artagnan opened his mouth at the endearment that had slipped from Aramis’ lips but decided to ignore it. He was dealing with as much as he could handle at the moment as it was. And Aramis tended to call everyone love at some point. He had probably even managed to call Treville that, though probably only when very, very drunk.

Remembering the conversation from the night before, he spoke. “He told me that first off, had it been anyone other than me or Porthos in the fantasy with you, his reaction would have been quite the opposite. You have no idea how relieved that made me.”

“You worry entirely too much for me, D’Artagnan,” Aramis said softly.

Choosing to ignore that as well, he continued. “Then he went on to explain the difference between giving one’s consent willingly and having another attempt to take it by force. He said that you… you would likely see the encounter, should it be between us, as a willing giving of your consent… of your control… to me. That, to you, it would not be me taking at all.”

“He is quite right,” Aramis told him. “What you saw as degradation, I did not because to me, I had gone to my knees willingly, while to you I had been forced there.”

“Yes,” D’Artagnan said. 

“And do you believe this?” Aramis asked. “Do you accept it as the truth of the matter?”

“I, I am trying to,” D’Artagnan said. “I think that I do, or that I will.”

“What can I do to help you?”

“Answer my questions?” D’Artagnan asked. “I told Athos that I understood what he wanted… what all of you seem to want, but… I cannot do it if I do not _know_ that it will not cause you harm in some way.”

“Then ask your questions. I will answer them to your satisfaction,” Aramis told him.

D’Artagnan nodded. He paused for a moment, needing to tell Aramis last thing before they began. “I told him I was not your lover.” 

Aramis paused, surprised at the apparent non sequitur, but then again D’Artagnan was rather prone to those at times, especially when his emotions were in a bit of an uproar. “This is true,” he said at last. “Since you mentioned it, I must conclude that Athos’ reply was somewhat different?”

“He said ‘not as such, no’.”

Aramis simply shook his head. For all that Athos could be a master tactician, at times he could make the stupidest of blunders. “I am sure he meant nothing…”

“I told him I had no idea what he meant by that,” D’Artagnan went on, sparing Aramis from having to try to cover for his brother.

“I hesitate to ask but, his reply to this?”

“That he meant only that I was not, at this time, your lover but that it was clear… it was clear I had feelings for you…”

“Oh, Whelp,” Aramis said as he turned on the divan and pulled D’Artagnan against him. “My brother is a fool at times. He really, really is. Do not listen to him when he speaks such nonsense. And do not let it trouble you for a moment.”

“Even if it is true?”

“What you feel for me is affection and a sword-brother’s love. Nothing more. Do not let Athos or anyone else set an expectation of you in that regard. You owe me nothing, D’Artagnan. Do you hear me?”

“I do,” D’Artagnan told him as he let himself be held and comforted. “But I believe it is a bit more than that. Maybe not as much as Athos thinks… or hopes…”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I told him it would destroy me if I were to hurt you in some way. And… and that I would leave before I would ever intentionally cause you harm.”

“Please do not say that,” Aramis pleaded softly. He pressed a kiss to the top of the younger man’s head and breathed him in for a moment. “We shall not argue this now. It is an unknown so there is little point to it anyway. I still think things are simply getting a bit jumbled. Sexual desire has been known to make many a man think he was in love when, in fact, he was simply in lust. Add a brother’s care and gratitude to that and it is easy to mistake the feeling.”

“And again I must ask, if I am not mistaken? If it is true?”

Aramis could hear the niggling worry in the man’s voice and placed another kiss to the top of his head. “Then I would welcome you into my heart as I have welcomed you into every other part of my life. You are precious, D’Artagnan, and I would treasure you always, in any way you would allow me to.”

They stayed as they were, Aramis holding D’Artagnan wrapped up in his arms, for so long that he thought the man might have fallen asleep. Finally, D’Artagnan began to shift away and back to his original position.

“Your questions,” Aramis prompted once they were side by side again. “Did you still want to discuss them now or would you prefer another time?”

“I would talk of them now, if you do not mind,” D’Artagnan replied. 

“Of course. Ask away.”

D’Artagnan grinned at him a bit shyly and spent a moment getting his thoughts in order once more. “My main concern,” he began, “is that I not do you harm in some way. Be that physically or emotionally or… otherwise.”

“Otherwise?” Aramis asked, unsure what other sort of harm he could mean.

“I do not have a term for it,” D’Artagnan shrugged. “Our bond, I guess. I will not see harm done to it. Or to the bonds you share with Athos and Porthos either.”

“Alright, let’s start with here then. First, I do not believe with the amount of care you are taking in this, that any harm can come to the bonds between any of us. I **know** that none will come to the bond between you and I. I will not allow such a thing and neither will you.”

“You cannot know that without knowing…”

“I know you, lad,” Aramis said. “And I know, if anything we say seems like it may even come close to having such an ill effect then I will tell you at once because to fail to do so would hurt **you** most grievously and I will not allow that.”

D’Artagnan nodded, glad that Aramis understood how much it would hurt him if _this_ was the thing that managed to sever the bonds between them. “I know your only experiences with men have been what you have shared with our brothers,” he continued. “I am aware of the nature of the things you have shared but not the details, and I am not asking for such. But, it does mean that I do not know how… how… rough I can be with you.”

“You are… rough… in your fantasy?” Aramis asked for clarification.

“Yes,” D’Artagnan said, blushing hotly. He started to pull his hand back from Aramis’ but the man’s fingers tightened on his refusing to let him pull away. “I…”

“It is alright,” Aramis soothed. “Shall I paint the picture and you simply tell me if I have it right or not?”

“Please.”

“Alright, lad. Let’s see now, I am on my knees, your hand fisted in my hair. I do like that, by the way,” Aramis told him. He was using what he had started referring to as his ‘Teaching’ voice. It was the calm, even tone he used to discuss anything upsetting with D’Artagnan. He found the younger man responded to it best. “Is it the choking me that worries you?”

D’Artagnan nodded then braced himself. He was going to have to actually speak if he wanted to be certain. “Have you taken either of them that way yet?” he asked bluntly.

“Yes,” Aramis smiled. “Porthos actually. So you can see your fears of choking me not of great concern.”

“Really?” D’Artagnan could not help but grin. “And just what are you insinuating?”

“Why, D’Artagnan, I insinuate nothing,” Aramis shot back, batting his eyes coyly at him and making the younger man smile even wider. “I am simply stating a fact. A fact which you are quite aware of considering you have bathed with the man and have even gone so far as to remark about the size of his…”

“Yes, alright,” D’Artagnan said, holding up his hand in surrender. “Though, if I do become too rough, you will let me know at once, agreed?”

“Of course,” Aramis replied more seriously. “I will make to you the same promise I made to Porthos the first time he took me. I will not allow you to harm me, you have my word. Now, what else troubles you? You said you worry for harming me emotionally. How so?”

D’Artagnan hesitated. He did not want to upset Aramis but he did not know any other way to say what needed to be said. “I do not wish to bring up your past,” he said at last, “be it now or… later.”

“And you shall not,” Aramis told him. “It is as I told Athos. I could never mistake your caring touch, even in the situation we are speaking of, as… as that.”

He could see the doubt still clouding D’Artagnan’s eyes and tried to clarify. “Even as you fist your hand in my hair, I will have but to look in your eyes to see you gauging my reaction. Even as you _shove_ your cock down my throat, I will know that all I will need do is simply tap you on the leg and you will release me at once. How could I _ever_ mistake that for anything but your unwavering protection?”

“Very well,” D’Artagnan relented. “You say I will not harm you, that you will not allow me to harm you, and I will trust you in this. But I have other concerns as well.”

“Then speak them.”

“Tell me what you will get from this,” D’Artagnan said. “For if this is simply for my pleasure then we need have no more discussion on the matter.”

“It is not simply for your pleasure,” Aramis said.

“Then what do you get from it? Do you desire me or is it simply the fantasy itself that you find appealing?”

“I… am hesitant to answer,” Aramis admitted.

“Why?” D’Artagnan frowned. Aramis had never hesitated to talk with him about any of this. He did not understand why he would hesitate now.

“Because I do not believe you will like my answers,” he said truthfully. 

“Tell me anyway,” he implored suddenly nervous as to what Aramis was about to reveal.

“There are several answers to the question so I would have you be patient with me and allow me to express them all before you form an opinion.” He waited for D’Artagnan to nod before beginning. 

“First, anyone with eyes would have desire for you, lad. You are young and beautiful and have a spirit that shines like a beacon. I am not immune to this, two current loves notwithstanding, and being with you in such a way would bring me a great deal of pleasure. Second, I love you quite dearly. I may not, as yet, be _in love_ with you, but that does not mean I do not love you and have for some time now.”

D’Artagnan opened his mouth to comment but Aramis held up a hand silencing him. 

“Further, there is a part of me, a very selfish part mind you, that sees this as a way to be even closer to Athos. I am not proud of this part of me, D’Artagnan. But it is there and I cannot deny it and I would have you know the truth of it.

“Finally, I would very much like to give you something simply for your own sake. Something to show you how very precious you are and to attempt to make amends for all that I have put you through with my petty jealousy.”

D’Artagnan waited a few moments to make sure Aramis was actually finished. “I will accept all of those reasons with the exception of the last,” he told him. “You have nothing to make amends to me for and even if you did, I would not have you do it this way.”

“I made you think your place with us was… was… precarious… transient… **unsafe** ,” Aramis said, the grief those words evoked in him clear. “How can you say I have nothing to make amends for?”

“I never held that against you,” D’Artagnan told him. “You did not do it intentionally.”

“You cannot excuse…”

“I can do what I please in this regard,” he told him. “We were all a mess when we got here, Aramis. We were barely keeping ourselves and each other together. Did our fears get the better of us? Yes. For a time. But we are still here, together. That is all that truly matters.”

Aramis closed his eyes again and let the other man’s words sink in. He could feel tears prick at his eyes and gulped them down, not wanting to upset him. He was right about one thing, they were still together and that was truly all that mattered. “And you have the audacity to wonder if I would be able to fall in love with you,” Aramis huffed softly.

They spoke a bit more with D’Artagnan telling Aramis that wanted both Athos and Porthos present. He knew from his own experiences just how easy it was to get lost in the moment and end up regretting what had taken place. He did not want to see that happen here and would trust the two men to help ensure it did not. He also asked Aramis about his limits and those things he did not like and would not allow, wanting to be sure he did not tread anywhere near those things. Luckily, Aramis was quick to assure him that any limits he had previously found were nothing that came even remotely close to the scenario that D’Artagnan wished to play out. 

“How far may I go?” D’Artagnan finally asked after they had exhausted nearly everything else.

“I do not understand,” Aramis replied. “In regard to what?”

“We both know how people can get swept up in these things. How far may I go? Am I only permitted the use of your mouth?”

“Ah, I see,” Aramis said. “I… that is very difficult to answer. As you say, it depends greatly on the moment. Perhaps, I will tell you if you try to go too far?”

“No,” D’Artagnan said, shaking his head. “I need a boundary in this. I need to know how far is too far. This time, at least. Not that I am presuming there will be others, of course.”

“Of course,” Aramis smiled. “And I think I understand. If you have a clear boundary, a line you know you may not cross, then there is less danger of a misstep on either of our parts.”

“Exactly that,” D’Artagnan said.

“Then let us say, _this time_ , that we adhere to the scenario as it has been laid out. My mouth… my face… but that is all you may make use of. Is this satisfactory?”

D’Artagnan swallowed thickly and felt his face flush. How he had managed to keep his arousal in check this long was beyond him but his control was quickly fleeing as Aramis’ words caused him to harden noticeably.

“That’s… that’s good,” he managed as he struggled not to grip himself with his free hand. 

“And I see your self-control is at its end for now,” Aramis chuckled. “It is alright. Mine is hanging on by tenterhooks as well. Let us go and see how Athos and Porthos are fairing. Perhaps they will be willing to help us alleviate our respective problems. Tell me first, though, do you know when you would like to do this or did you still wish time to think things over?”

“I need to talk to Athos and Porthos first,” he replied, surprising Aramis. He understood his desire to speak to Athos but he had not expected him to wish to speak to Porthos as well. “Assuming they have no objections then… sometime soon, perhaps?”

“Yes, of course,” Aramis said, still a bit thrown.

“I see I have managed to surprise you again,” the younger man smiled. “I will not do this without Porthos’ full knowledge and consent beforehand. I will not take a chance on damaging _any_ of the bonds between us, including the one you share with Porthos.”

D’Artagnan went to turn away and head outside to where Athos and Porthos were practicing. Before he could go, Aramis grabbed his arm and turned him back. Stepping forward, he placed a soft, closed-mouth kiss on his lips then pressed a similar one to his forehead before releasing him and heading quickly outside.


	42. Chapter 42

Part 42

When Aramis began working on giving Athos’ back a rub down, D’Artagnan took the opportunity to pull Porthos aside. “Can we talk for a moment?” he asked and nodded toward the kitchen.

Porthos looked at him a moment then nodded and headed into the other room. From the way Aramis’ hands had paused on Athos’ for a moment, he knew the man had both heard D’Artagnan’s request and likely knew what it was about. Since he detected no true distress on either of them he was content to be patient and do as the lad asked.

“What is it?” Porthos asked once they were seated at the kitchen table, far enough away from the other room that they would not be overheard, yet nearby should they be needed.

Knowing how much Porthos appreciated a more direct approach to things, D’Artagnan was blunt. “You are aware of what Aramis and I have been speaking of,” he said, phrasing it as a statement rather than a question. “I would know your thoughts on it.”

Porthos paused for a moment, surprised by D’Artagnan’s directness. “I got a lot of thoughts on it,” he hedged, not really sure how to answer. “Are you asking if I got a problem with it?”

“Yes,” D’Artagnan replied. “I told Aramis I will not do this if it will harm the bonds between us… between any of us. That includes the one between you and him. If this will cause a problem between you… or between us… then it will not happen.”

“You’re a good lad, D’Artagnan,” Porthos told him. He took in the boy’s earnest expression and knew he meant what he said. He would not chance doing damage to their brotherhood for anything. Glancing back toward the other room, he gave it some serious thought. 

He loved Aramis with nearly all of his heart – all of it that was not reserved for Athos and the Whelp, that was. He would no more deny him something… or someone… than he would try to cage a wildcat. He knew that doing so would only end up hurting him and breaking the wildcat utterly. No, the question was not could he abide Aramis giving himself, be it simply his body or something more, to the boy. For the answer to that, he already knew. The real question was whether he trusted D’Artagnan enough to allow him to act out his fantasy as he would. And for that answer, he needed more information.

“I cannot answer that quite yet,” Porthos said at last as he turned back to face D’Artagnan. “Will I have a problem with you lying with him? No. Aramis is Aramis. I would never try to… to limit him. He loves a very great deal and, more times than not, he expresses that love physically. I would never try to stop that.”

“Fair enough,” D’Artagnan said. “Shall I tell you exactly what Aramis and I have decided upon, should we go through with this? Would that help you?”

“Yes,” Porthos nodded. “That would help a lot. I need to know… You gotta understand, Whelp, it’s not you.”

“Don’t apologize for trying to protect him,” D’Artagnan said. “Don’t ever apologize for that.”

“Fuck,” Porthos gasped and had to look away for a moment as he was forcibly reminded of when Athos had spoken nearly those same words to him what felt like ages ago.

“Porthos?” D’Artagnan frowned concerned at the sudden look that had come over his friend.

“Athos said that very same thing to me, you know,” he said and made himself look up at the other man again. “Back when I first found out about his feelings for Aramis.”

“Is it so strange that we would seek to protect him even from ourselves should it be necessary? We would do no less for you, if ever it were necessary.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Porthos reached out and took D’Artagnan’s hand. “I know my brothers got my back. You had it when I wasn’t even me anymore. I won’t ever doubt that. Now tell me what you and Aramis cooked up so I can see if there’s anything that might need to change before we give it a try.”

“Are you certain?”

At Porthos’ nod, D’Artagnan told him of the scene he and Aramis had agreed to. He told him of the limits put into place – that he was allowed the use of Aramis’ mouth and face only. He also told him that he would insist upon both him and Athos being present. It was not that he did not trust Aramis, but he would not risk making an error in this. He would have his brothers there to help ensure he did not. 

“That ain’t the only reason you want us there,” Porthos told him.

“No,” D’Artagnan smiled, “but it is the reason I gave to Aramis and he accepted it.”

“So tell me the whole of it.”

“I would have you and Athos there to… to see to Aramis’ needs afterwards. I do not intend to leave him unfulfilled but I am not fool enough to think that whatever release he finds in our encounter will be enough to sate him. Not after something like that. And even if it is, he will still need his lovers to comfort him and help him… come back to himself.”

“You think he won’t be able to get that comfort from you?”

“I think he would find it infinitely more fulfilling if it were to come from the two of you,” D’Artagnan explained. 

“Not sure I like this part, to be truthful. Don’t much care for you bein’ alone while the three of us…”

“I will be near,” D’Artagnan told him. “And… I may need some time to come back to myself, as well.”

“Right. Got it,” Porthos said, understanding now. “We’ll take care of Aramis but you stay close and if you need us, you let us know. Aramis won’t need both of us to get him sorted.”

“You do not object to being there then?” D’Artagnan asked, needing to be sure that Porthos watching would not cause him undue pain.

“No. In truth, I’m glad of it. It would’ve been hard for me to _not_ be there. It’s not that I don’t trust you, I do. It’s just…”

“Peace, brother,” D’Artagnan smiled. “You have no idea how much it eases me to know you worry for him in this as much as I do.”

By the time they rejoined Athos and Aramis in the main room, the two were lounging on the divan attempting to appear at ease as they waited rather impatiently for them. D’Artagnan smiled at both of them and, once he was close enough, he leaned down and brushed a quick kiss to Aramis’ forehead before leaning down and giving Athos a much deeper one.

D’Artagnan sat down on the floor once more and leant back against the divan. This time, however, rather than sitting on the far side of Athos, he situated himself between Athos’ and Aramis’ legs, feeling both of them brush against his shoulders as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Porthos had watched the interaction between the three of them and felt his heart ache with the love he felt for them. He situated himself next to Aramis and kissed him on the temple, letting his arm settle around his shoulders. He knew his lover was a bit thrown by the boy’s actions just now and he could not say he blamed him. D’Artagnan, while affectionate, tended to be very careful of crossing lines with any of them. Perhaps they were finally getting it through his head that those _lines_ of his were not so intractable after all.

“Stop fretting,” Porthos whispered when Aramis glanced at him. “Things went fine.”

Aramis visibly relaxed at that. If D’Artagnan’s talk with Porthos had gone well then there was very little that could go wrong at this point. He knew he had already spoken with Athos at length about things and that he had no problem with what D’Artagnan wanted. Quite the contrary, actually. 

Aramis had made a point to mention that, _perhaps_ Athos might have showed a bit more _restraint_ with the lad about his desires considering how hard he was struggling with them, but since he had actually gotten D’Artagnan to better understand things he would let it go. This time. 

Athos had promised not to act so rashly again and then had proceeded to blush quite red when he realized that Aramis was aware of just how effected he had been by D’Artagnan’s fantasy. He had started to stammer out some sort of explanation, but Aramis had simply covered his mouth with his fingers, then rewarded him with a kiss when he finally fell silent.

“If you’ve the time this evening, I would speak with you,” D’Artagnan said. He had addressed no one in particular but all three of them knew it was Athos he needed to talk to. He was, after all, the only one of them left for the lad to talk the matter over with.

“I always have the time for you, love,” Athos told him. He stroked his fingers through D’Artagnan’s hair, enjoying the way it felt and the way it made the other man seem to melt under his hand. “We can do so here and now if you wish. I am sure we are all aware of the subject matter.”

“No,” D’Artagnan said without opening his eyes. “I would afford you the same privacy to speak your mind as I did the others. Though I know it would not be deliberate, I do not want to chance your fear of disappointing or upsetting one of them to color your words.”

“After dinner then,” Athos said. 

“That will be fine. I shall not keep you from them long, I promise.”

“And if I would spend this night with you?” Athos asked. 

“You spent last night with me,” D’Artagnan pointed out. “And you spend far too many nights in my bed that should be spent in theirs. Do not neglect them simply to cosset me. I shall be fine on my own for a night. I promise.”

“My desire to spend the night with you has nothing to do with cosseting you,” Athos told him.

“Yes, it does,” D’Artagnan said with a smirk, his eyes still firmly closed as he enjoyed the feel of Athos’ strong hand kneading his scalp. “You wish to indulge me, to show me that I am cherished. I do not mind. But I would not have you do it at their expense.”

“You are the most stubborn…” Porthos grumbled. 

“Pot, kettle,” D’Artagnan muttered back refusing to put more effort into it than that with Athos’ hand in his hair turning him to mush right there.

“Enough,” Aramis laughed, finally regaining his footing a bit. “The lad obviously wants a bit of time to himself tonight. We shall do as he has so eloquently requested. If he has need of us, he knows where to find us.”

“Alright,” Athos agreed, though he did not want to. It was not that he did not want to share a bed with the other two; he simply did not feel right leaving D’Artagnan on his own. At least when he and D’Artagnan were together, he knew that Aramis had Porthos with him. D’Artagnan could state no such claim and it bothered Athos more than he cared to admit.

That settled, D’Artagnan allowed himself a few more minutes of bliss before starting to rise. He managed to get as far as lifting his head from the divan before Aramis threw his leg over his shoulder to stop him from rising.

“Where do you think you are going?” he asked.

“Well, unless you have a maid stashed about here someplace, I am going into the kitchen to begin dinner,” D’Artagnan replied and made to rise again. This time Athos added his own leg, firmly pinning him in place.

“Not tonight, love,” Athos told him.

“I have been on enough campaigns to be able to manage in the kitchen,” Aramis said. “You stay here with Athos. Porthos and I can see to dinner for one night.”

“That is not necessary,” D’Artagnan replied as he finally opened his eyes and frowned up at Athos and Aramis. “You know I do not mind.”

“We know,” Aramis said. “But you let us take advantage of your good nature far too much. So, for tonight, you will allow more than simply Athos to cosset you. Please?”

“You know I cannot refuse you when you that tone,” D’Artagnan grumbled but could not altogether hide his grin. 

“I know,” Aramis smiled back. “I shall try not to use it on you overmuch. Unless you are being stubborn, of course.”

“Oh, of course. Go on,” D’Artagnan sighed, letting himself sink back against the divan again. “I shall stay obediently where I have been put.”

“Oh do feel free to make use of the divan while we are busy,” Aramis smirked as he and Porthos stood. “Wouldn’t want its seductive qualities to go to waste, after all.”

“Really? You’re going to blame the three of you rutting like rabbits on the furniture now?”

“Oi! You hear that cheek, Athos? Mayhap Aramis isn’t the only one who could stand a little time on his knees,” Porthos said, his tone light and teasing.

“Porthos!” Aramis snapped, scowling at his lover. Athos’ heavy-handed tactics with the lad were bad enough. The last thing they needed was Porthos making it worse.

“Peace, Aramis,” D’Artagnan said softly. He had stiffened at Porthos’ words but made himself relax again. “Porthos was merely teasing. He meant no offense and none was taken. I started it, after all.”

“I am sorry,” Aramis said, apologizing to both of them. 

“It’s alright, love. You go right ahead and protect our Whelp just as fiercely as he protects you and we’ll all be just fine.”

Athos waited until he could hear Aramis and Porthos banging around in the kitchen attempting to prepare dinner before tugging D’Artagnan up beside him on the divan. “Did Porthos’ words truly bother you?” he asked. He had felt D’Artagnan tense then relax under his hand and did not know if it was just the surprise of it or something more.

“Not really,” D’Artagnan replied. It was not the idea of being on his knees that bothered him but rather who he would be on his knees to. Athos had admitted that he did not prefer taking a dominant role in such things. That left Aramis and Porthos. D’Artagnan was not at all sure he was ready to even consider such a thing. Not now. Perhaps after he saw how his encounter with Aramis went, then he might consider such a thing.

A thought occurred to him then and he felt as if someone had reached inside his chest and grabbed his heart. He remembered how aroused Athos had been at the thought of watching Aramis being dominated. Would his lover want that with him? Would he want to see another man making such use of him that way?

“D’Artagnan, whatever it is you are thinking that is causing you to panic in such a way, you need to stop,” Athos whispered into his ear urgently. He was a moment away from calling for Aramis to help calm the younger man. Considering the subject of conversation, he had a pretty good idea of what had caused his lover such distress but he had to get him to settle down before he could even start to address it.

“I am alright,” D’Artagnan said at last, once more making himself relax. He told himself that Athos would never demand more of him than he would willingly give and used that knowledge to pry the icy fingers from his heart.

“You are most certainly not alright,” Athos countered. “But we shall not argue that. You know I would never…”

“Of course I do,” D’Artagnan cut him off before Athos could even say the words aloud. He would **not** reduce his lover to having to say such a thing out loud. He had more faith in Athos… in all of them… than that.

“Then what is it?” Athos asked, unwilling to allow him to brush this aside as unimportant.

“I am not so different from your other lovers, you know,” D’Artagnan said. “I would give you anything you wish for so long as it caused no harm to you, Aramis or Porthos.”

“D’Artagnan…”

“I do not find the thought of being on my knees to you unappealing,” he continued as if Athos had not spoken. “Very much the opposite, in all truth. But I know this is not your preference in such scenarios.”

“Stop,” Athos ordered, not wanting to hear any more.

“It is fine, Athos. The thought of it merely took me by surprise, is all. It is not something I was prepared to consider at the moment.”

“But you think you need to consider it,” Athos stated. “You think you need to consider it because… because you think I will find it arousing to see you that way.”

“I know you would,” D’Artagnan told him. 

Athos took a moment to get himself under control before speaking. “You are right,” he said honestly. “I would. But if you would not enjoy it, or do not think you _might_ enjoy it, then I would _never_ allow such a thing to happen. And it would not matter how aroused the thought of it made me. I would never want you to do that.”

“But…”

“Would you ask such of Aramis?” Athos cut in brutally. “If what you wanted with him, if it was something he would not enjoy but rather something he would merely endure for his brother’s sake, would you do it then?”

D’Artagnan spun around on the divan, quickly straddling Athos’ lap and burying his head in the other man’s neck. “Forgive me,” he whispered. “I did not think.”

“Well, we have all be guilty of that a time or two of late, I’d say,” Athos said as he held him tightly in relief. “Just… never that, love. If ever, anything I wish is not something you will enjoy then you simply have to tell me. I would never have our lovemaking be something… distasteful to you.”

“I promise,” D’Artagnan vowed. 

D’Artagnan had regained much of his equilibrium by dinner, as had Athos. Aramis and Porthos could tell that something had happened but it appeared to be already taken care of so they let it be for now. They knew that Athos would tell them of it later if need be. 

Once dinner was over with, D’Artagnan found himself shooed form the kitchen once more as Aramis and Porthos began to clean up. D’Artagnan smiled fondly at them, then followed Athos back to their shared room. They settled on the bed, but undressed only so far as their breeches. They had things to discuss and neither man wanted to be distracted.

“I spoke with Aramis and Porthos earlier today,” D’Artagnan began. He then told Athos of the scenario he and Aramis had decided on as well as the limits. “Porthos agreed to be present during it. I trust you have no objection to doing so as well?”

“I would have one to not being there,” Athos grinned, “and not for the same reason as Porthos. Or at least not all of them.”

“I know,” D’Artagnan grinned back. “I know how much you want to watch it. How much you want to _see_ it. I want that, too. And… I think Aramis does as well.”

“You are making it very hard to leave this bed,” Athos groaned as he felt himself growing hard in his breeches at the very thought of Aramis **wanting** him to see him that way.

“That’s why we still have our breeches on,” D’Artagnan laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m sure your other lovers will be more than happy to take care of you tonight.”

“What about you?” Athos asked.

“I do still have full use of my hands, Athos. I will be fine.”

Athos just looked at him for a moment and groaned aloud as he reached down to grip himself firmly. “You are a menace,” he practically snarled.

“See what happens when you let me spend entire days talking with Aramis.”

“Is there more we need to discuss or are you merely tormenting me now?” Athos asked. 

“A bit more,” D’Artagnan laughed. “But just a bit, I promise. I wanted to talk about Aramis’ reasons for doing this. I thought you should understand them.”

“Is there something that concerns you?” Athos asked.

“Not as such,” D’Artagnan assured him. “But part of the reason he is doing this is to be closer to you.”

“I see,” Athos said. “And this is why you want me to spend the night with them, isn’t it?”

“Part of it,” D’Artagnan admitted. “He obviously needs more of you than he is getting. I would rectify that if I am able.”

“Very well,” Athos relented. “But I will not have you denying your own needs. We shall find our way in this.”

“Yes, we will. It takes time but we are already much better than we were. In time, we will find our true balance.”


	43. Chapter 43

Part 43

D’Artagnan waited two days before deciding he was ready. He had wanted to make sure he was in the right frame of mind before proceeding and finally felt like he was. It had also been nice to watch Aramis squirm a bit, the man’s anticipation growing stronger with each passing hour. 

Rising early, he kissed Athos on the cheek and went to start breakfast. The other three joined him in the kitchen a short time later and, when Aramis was not looking, he grinned at them to let them know that today would be the day. The answering smiles from the other two let him know that they were still quite amenable. Now all he needed to do was make sure Aramis was still on board.

As he put the finishing touches on their morning meal, he looked to Aramis. “If you’ve nothing special planned for today, I thought we might… play. If you are still amenable, that is.”

Aramis started at the younger man’s words and quickly looked at Athos and Porthos. Both were smiling widely at him and he felt himself blush as he looked to D’Artagnan. “I have nothing particularly pressing planned,” he said as serenely as possible. 

“Good,” D’Artagnan said, letting his voice drop from its normal lighthearted tone to a much more seductive one. “Later today then? I have some few things I need to attend to first.”

“Of course,” Aramis replied. He could feel desire coiling inside of him already and knew this was D’Artagnan’s intention. He wanted him desperate and aching for him and Aramis had no doubt that he would be by the time the lad finally came to him. Still, if his obedience and control were what D’Artagnan wanted first then Aramis would gladly cede them to him. 

“I think somebody’s in for a long day,” Porthos chuckled.

“I think we all are,” Athos replied for he knew there was no way he and Porthos would be able to remain unaffected by Aramis’ blatant desire. This would be an exercise in control for all of them it would seem.

It was nearing mid-day when Athos and Porthos began to worry if perhaps D’Artagnan was not pushing Aramis a bit too hard. Their lover had been on edge since early morning, half-hard or more in his breeches the entire time, with D’Artagnan nowhere to be seen. Unable to keep quiet any longer, they went in search of Aramis and found him in the study attempting to read.

Athos approached him with Porthos standing just inside the entryway. He plucked the book from his hands and laid it aside. “If this is too much for you, you have but to say the word and it ends,” he told him. 

Aramis looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Get in here,” he said to Porthos then waited until they were both standing in front of him. “We are not ending *anything*. I have been about to spend in my breeches all bloody day just thinking about this and if the Whelp keeps me waiting much longer I may actually combust.”

Porthos let out a relieved laugh. “You want us to give you a hand with that, love?” 

“As much as I would dearly like to, no,” Aramis declined. “D’Artagnan obviously wanted me aroused so that is what I shall be – for as long as he wishes it. I ceded my control to him when I gave my consent this morning.”

Porthos looked to Athos and shrugged. If Aramis truly did not mind what the lad was doing to him then they would not interfere. “Just promise that you’ll tell us if it becomes too much,” he told him. 

“We will not interfere directly,” Athos added, “but we can fetch D’Artagnan from wherever he has secreted himself and make him aware that you are in need of him.”

“I give you my word,” Aramis promised. “But I can tell you both, no one ever died from being aroused. This does me no harm and the lad knows it.” 

He stood and gave them each a brief kiss, not trusting himself to do more than that and headed toward the kitchen. Perhaps preparing their noon meal would give him something to focus on other than the unrelenting *want* pooling inside of him.

D’Artagnan came back in just as they were finishing eating. He only meant to grab a quick bite and leave for a bit longer but one look at Aramis’ almost feverish eyes changed his plans. Striding purposely forward, he pulled Aramis up from his place at the table and kissed him long and hard, putting all of the pent up desire he felt into it.

When he broke their kiss, he kept his arm wrapped tightly around Aramis’ middle until he was sure the man was steady. “When you are finished eating, go bathe and then meet me in front of the fireplace in the main hall,” D’Artagnan told him. He could feel Athos’ and Porthos’ eyes on him but he ignored them and calmly walked from the room as they watched him go.

Aramis did as he was bid. He finished what was left of his meal then went to bathe. He knew D’Artagnan was giving him time to settle himself a bit, to get his head in the proper place for what was to come. He took his time bathing and redressed only in a loose shirt and breeches. He doubted if he would be in them for long but D’Artagnan had not told him to be naked and he did not want to presume. He had asked for his obedience and Aramis was determined to give it to him.

He found D’Artagnan standing in front of the fireplace when he entered the room. Athos and Porthos were seated on either end of the divan. All three men had an air of tension about them to one degree or another, yet D’Artagnan seemed to be the most relaxed of the three.

D’Artagnan turned toward the doorway when he heard Athos’ sudden inhale behind him. Aramis’ bare feet had made no sound on the floor and D’Artagnan could not hold back his smile when he saw him standing in the doorway. “Come here,” he said, holding out his hand toward him.

Aramis went to him, crossing the short distance quickly. He was not surprised to find that every step he took closer to the other man left him feeling just a bit more settled, a bit more at ease, inside. He had played these types of games before and knew the feelings they could evoke within him when done correctly. He had a suspicion that this time might be eye opening for more than just D’Artagnan. 

“Are you sure?” D’Artagnan asked him one last time. When Aramis nodded, he pulled him into another deep kiss. When he released him, he took a step back. “If at any time you want me to stop, just say so and know I will. If you cannot speak, then tap me twice on the arm or leg. Agreed?”

“Yes, D’Artagnan,” Aramis replied. “Or… do you prefer…”

“D’Artagnan,” he told him. “I prefer D’Artagnan. I have no wish to hear you call me by anything other than my name… or the occasional endearment.”

“Yes, D’Artagnan,” Aramis said, using his name again just to see the flare of lust in the other man’s eyes and know that *he* had put it there.

“You are a menace,” D’Artagnan told him. 

“Am I really?” Aramis asked coyly.

“No. You are… desire personified. You are want and lust and aching beauty. And, for just a little while, you are mine. Aren’t you?”

Aramis swallowed thickly, his words nearly sticking in his throat. “Yes, D’Artagnan,” he finally managed to reply as his lust uncoiled like a writhing snake inside him.

“Perfect.” He glanced over at the two men on the divan, checking their reactions. Neither appeared to have any objection to things thus far so he returned his attention where it belonged. Looking Aramis up and down as one would a prize cut of meat, he began to slowly circle the other man. He did not miss the way Aramis’ breath hitched when he moved out of his line of sight. Unsure if it was caused by lust or fear, D’Artagnan made sure to move back where Aramis could see him quickly. 

When he was in front of him again, D’Artagnan let his eyes linger on Aramis’ body a bit more. He could see the man’s arousal straining in his breeches and felt a thrill at the knowledge that it was because of him, of what he was doing to the man. 

“Are you ready to be my good little slut, Aramis?” D’Artagnan asked, carefully gauging his reaction to being spoken to so.

Aramis moaned aloud, unable to keep it in. He had not been expecting that from D’Artagnan and it had caught him off guard. “I am more than ready,” he told him a moment later. 

“Then take off those clothes and show me what’s mine,” D’Artagnan told him. He could see how much his words of ownership were affecting Aramis and was more than happy to indulge him. He wanted this to be as pleasurable for the man as he could make it. 

Aramis wasted no time in complying. He loosened the strings on his shirt and pulled it over his head as sensually as he knew how. He let the garment drop to the floor, baring his chest to D’Artagnan as well as the two men who sat silently watching on the divan. He was pleased to see the desire in the younger man’s eyes as he started in on the lacings of his breeches. 

“Stop,” D’Artagnan told him softly.

Aramis looked up quickly, afraid he had somehow done something wrong but he saw no anger in D’Artagnan’s eyes. “Did I do…”

“No,” he told him quickly. “You did nothing wrong. I merely wish for you to take off your rosary and hand it to Porthos for safekeeping. I do not wish to see it damaged on accident.”

Aramis felt his heart give a lurch and tried to cover it by quickly slipping the rosary over his head. He stepped forward and handed it to Porthos without a word then retook his position in front of the fireplace. “Thank you,” he said to D’Artagnan once he was in front of him again. 

“You may proceed,” D’Artagnan replied.

Aramis started in on the lacings of his breeches once more. He made as much of a show as he could out of stripping out of them, making sure to display himself to D’Artagnan as fully as possible. If this beautiful boy wanted him to be his slut for the evening, then he was more than happy to oblige. 

“You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen,” D’Artagnan told him, grinning at the way Aramis all but preened under the compliment. He ran his hands over Aramis’ body, touching is arms and chest and stomach. He paused for a moment, then let his hand slide lower to grip Aramis’ hard cock and stroke it once slowly, drawing a long, low moan from the man.

“I am going to put you on your knees and use that pretty little mouth of yours,” D’Artagnan whispered to him, just loud enough so that Athos and Porthos could hear as well. “And you, my beautiful slut, are not to spend until I say you may. Is that understood?”

“Yes, D’Artagnan,” Aramis gasped as D’Artagnan stroked him again.

“Then are you waiting for an engraved invitation?” 

Aramis stepped back at once and dropped to his knees gracefully. He did not reach for D’Artagnan’s breeches even though he wanted to. This was not about his desires. His desires were irrelevant. He had no desires in this. He was D’Artagnan’s to be used as the lad saw fit.

D’Artagnan had to bite back a gasp at the sight of Aramis naked and on his knees. It was even more erotic than the fantasies he’d had of it. For in his fantasies, Aramis was always somewhat reluctant, but here he was anything but. The hard cock jutting out from between his legs put paid to that. As did the wanton desire burning in his eyes. 

Reaching out, D’Artagnan threaded his fingers through Aramis’ hair then slowly tightened his hand until he had a firm grip. He increased the pressure a bit more until Aramis gasped aloud then smirked down at him. “Open my pants, slut,” he told him, more than ready to be out of the confining material.

Aramis quickly went to work on the lacings to D’Artagnan’s breeches. He tried to move his head forward to better see, but the man’s fist in his hair pulled sharply preventing him from getting close even as it pulled another low moan from within him. 

Once he had his pants open, Aramis reached inside and pulled D’Artagnan’s erection free without needing to be told. He was rewarded with a gasp from the younger man and a sharp tug to his hair that made his own cock twitch. 

“So fucking eager, aren’t you?” D’Artagnan said as he continued to hold Aramis in place with one hand and grip himself with the other. He took a half step forward and began to rub the head of his cock over Aramis’ lips and cheek, painting his face with the clear fluid that had already begun to gather at the tip. 

Aramis parted his lips as D’Artagnan ran his cock over them, eager to taste it fully. He licked his lips when he pulled his cock back and the taste of the younger man exploded across his tongue. “Please,” he begged. “Please let me taste you.”

“You want to taste me, slut?” D’Artagnan taunted. “You want my cock down your throat?” 

“Yes, yes please, D’Artagnan,” Aramis pleaded. 

“Hands on my thighs,” D’Artagnan ordered brusquely. As soon as Aramis complied, he jerked Aramis’ head back hard and shoved his cock into his open mouth. It was all he could do to keep from shoving in to the hilt at the feel of Aramis’ hot, wet mouth engulfing him. Instead, he brought his other hand down to Aramis’ head and began to slowly pull him forward onto his cock. 

Aramis moaned as D’Artagnan began to pull him farther and farther down onto him. He ran his tongue up and down the underside of the man’s cock as best he could as it was forced into his mouth an inch at a time. 

“Your mouth feels so good,” D’Artagnan told him. “So hot and wet. I just want to shove myself all the way down your throat until you choke on it.”

Aramis moaned around D’Artagnan’s cock, hoping his lover took it for the consent he meant it for. He was eager to feel him loosen his control and take what he wanted, what Aramis wanted so badly to give him. 

Unable to hold back any longer with Aramis practically begging for it, D’Artagnan pulled back and then thrust back in. He started shallow, giving Aramis a moment to adjust then began thrusting in a little deeper with each inward stroke. In less time than he would have thought he was shoving himself all the way into Aramis’ mouth, the head of his cock making Aramis’ throat spasm as he struggled not to choke.

Aramis could feel himself sinking into his sense of “service” the more D’Artagnan made use of him. He had not done anything like this in quite some time and he found himself going under much quicker than he normally did. Or perhaps it was simply because he trusted his partner fully for once and could allow himself to sink down without worry. He could let go. D’Artagnan would look after him. 

D’Artagnan could tell the moment when Aramis finally gave in. He felt the last of the residual tension leave the man’s body as he gave himself over to the will of another. Gripping his head tightly, D’Artagnan thrust forward as far as he could and held himself there, letting Aramis’ spasming throat massage the head of his cock. He kept his eyes locked on Aramis’ as he did so, gauging his reaction and looking for any sign of true pain or distress.

Pulling back, D’Artagnan paused for a moment then began to fuck Aramis’ mouth. He was careful, only thrusting in all the way every few strokes. Even then, he made sure to keep those thrusts random so that Aramis would not know when to expect them, enjoying making the man nearly choke on him time and again. When he knew he was getting close, he shoved forward once more, burying himself to the hilt and holding himself there.

Long seconds later, he pulled back sliding his cock free of Aramis’ mouth. He massaged Aramis’ scalp as he panted, waiting until he was once more under control before using the grip on his hair to pull his head back with one hand. Fisting his cock with the other, he began to stroke himself over Aramis’ upturned face.

“I’m going to spend on your pretty face, slut,” D’Artagnan rasped as he stroked himself. He was so close already that he knew it would not take much more to finish him. As it was, the look of open adoration on Aramis’ face as he licked his lips and opened his mouth for D’Artagnan was all it took. With a strangled shout, he began to spend, covering Aramis’ face with it as he gasped and shuddered above him.

Aramis keened at the feel of D’Artagnan spending on his face. He gasped when he felt it fall across his lips and into his open mouth and he quickly swallowed, eager to taste the younger man in this way as well. 

“God,” D’Artagnan moaned as he watched Aramis lick his spend from his lips even as he shuddered through the last of his orgasm. When he was fully spent, he knelt down beside him and fisted his hand in Aramis’ hair once more, nearly mesmerized by the sight of the man’s face marked by him.

“Please…” Aramis begged, his voice rough with desire. “Please, D’Artagnan… let me spend… Please…”

D’Artagnan used his grip on Aramis’ hair to jerk his head back. He directed his gaze over to the two men still seated on the divan. The look of unadulterated lust on Athos’ face was stronger than D’Artagnan had ever seen it before. “Look at them,” he whispered to Aramis making sure the other two could hear him. 

He used his free hand to stroke Aramis’ chest, lightly pinching his nipples then soothing them gently. “See how they hunger for you. Even now… naked and on your knees with another man’s spend covering your face they look at you like they want nothing more than to… Eat. You. Alive.” Reaching down, he stroked Aramis’ cock from root to tip and brushed his lips against the shell of his hear. “Spend for me, Aramis,” he whispered.

With a strangled shout Aramis thrust forward into D’Artagnan’s hand and began to spend. He could feel the younger man release his hair and grip his waist, holding him tightly around the middle as he stroked him through his orgasm and Aramis gripped his arm equally tightly in return. Only when Aramis sagged against him did D’Artagnan stop stroking him. He still held him close, knowing how much Aramis needed that closeness right now. Finally, he turned his attention to the two men on the divan. He bid them closer with a nod and placed a gentle kiss on Aramis’ temple. 

“You were perfect,” he told him as he Athos and Porthos sank down on either side of them. Reluctantly, he transferred his precious burden to Porthos’ waiting arms then slid back. He was not surprised to see Athos slide into the space he vacated and smiled at the sight the three of them made.

While they comforted Aramis, D’Artagnan slipped into the kitchen and dampened a cloth. He quickly righted his clothes then brought the cloth back out and handed it to Porthos so he could clean Aramis up. That done, he relegated himself to the other side of the room where he could keep an eye on Aramis without intruding on the three of them. 

Sitting in a chair on the far side of the room, D’Artagnan was rather surprised to find himself shaking. He was careful not to draw attention to himself, knowing that Porthos was at least attempting to keep an eye on him as well. He did not want them concerning themselves with him right now. He wanted them focusing on Aramis.

As he watched them, D’Artagnan could not help but observe how very effected Athos was. He had been hard in his breeches throughout their encounter, so much so that he thought it a wonder the man had not spent himself either on purpose or accidentally. It was something they would need to take into consideration in the future, if there was a future, of course. For he did not feel at all comfortable leaving Athos in such straights for so long a period of time. 

Even as D’Artagnan watched it was clear that Aramis was not yet ready to return to himself. That was fine. His lovers did not seem to mind as they continued to stroke and pet him, keeping his body humming pleasantly. 

“Let me… let me please you,” Aramis pleaded as he rested between them. He could feel how aroused Athos was and he longed to please him… to provide him with the relief his body craved. 

“That is not necessary,” Athos gasped even as his body gave a lurch of desire. He longed to feel Aramis’ mouth on him as D’Artagnan had but did not feel his lover was in any state of mind to truly make such an offer. 

“Please,” Aramis begged as he stroked up Athos’ thigh. 

“Is that what you want, love?” Porthos asked, sensing that Aramis wanted both to please them and to stay *under* for a bit longer. 

“Yes,” Aramis said quickly. “Oh, yes please, Porthos. I want so badly to… to serve…”

“Alright, love,” Porthos told him. He ran his fingers through Aramis’ hair and gripped gently. 

“Porthos…” Athos said, still unsure if Aramis were even capable of giving consent in this moment.

“It’s alright, Athos,” Porthos told him. “He knows what he’s sayin’. I wouldn’t let him do it if I thought it would hurt either one of you.”

“If you are sure,” Athos said. 

“I am,” Porthos replied. “And I’m sure I wanna see it. Wanna see his pretty mouth stretched around your cock. You wanna see that, too, don’t ya?”

“You have no idea,” Athos growled and pressed his hand against his erection to try to calm himself.

Porthos laughed low and dirty and pulled Aramis up into a brief kiss. “You heard him, love,” he said once he broke away. “Now show us both just how good you can *serve*.”

Aramis mewled at Porthos’ command and turned to Athos, rolling onto his knees and setting to work on unlacing his lover’s breeches as quickly as he could. As soon as he had them undone, he pushed them down Athos’s hips along with his small clothes leaving his lover bared. Wrapping one hand around the base to steady himself, Aramis didn’t wait to be told, he took Athos into his mouth and began to suck and lave his cock, intent on bringing him off and tasting him as he had D’Artagnan. 

Athos had to clench his fists to keep from thrusting up into Aramis’ mouth at the first feel of him. He was already so wound up from simply watching Aramis submit to D’Artagnan that he knew he would not last long. Forcing his hands back open, he brought them to Aramis’ head and let them sink into his hair, using his grip to guide him into the rhythm he wanted, the rhythm that would having him spending down Aramis’ throat in no time.

“So fucking beautiful,” Porthos groaned as he watched his lovers. The sight of Aramis giving himself so completely was a sight to behold. And the sight of Athos hanging onto his control by a thread was enough to have Porthos pressing his palm against his own cock to calm himself. 

“Can I… can I… in your mouth…” Athos gasped as he thrust up shallowly, unable to stop himself completely.

Aramis moaned his consent and used his free hand to squeeze Athos thigh, knowing he would understand. He was rewarded a few moments later when Athos cried out and thrust forward hard, burying himself in Aramis’ mouth as he began to spend down his throat.

Aramis did his best to lick and swallow around Athos’ cock as he spent, determined to bring his lover as much pleasure as he could. Dimly, he could hear Porthos groaning behind them and the knowledge that he was bringing him pleasure as well sang in his veins. 

Aramis refused to relinquish Athos until he began to soften and even then he did so reluctantly. He heard Porthos chuckle as Athos whimpered but he didn’t care. Turning back to Porthos he saw him tucking his own lax cock back into his breeches and smiled lazily at him, glad he had managed to bring Porthos pleasure as well.

From across the room, D’Artagnan continued to watch them. He had kept a careful eye on Aramis, making sure the others did not push him too far inadvertently. In truth, he was glad that he and Athos had been able to share something from the encounter. Athos was not giving Aramis nearly as much time as he needed and that was mainly due to him. D’Artagnan resolved to do something to remedy that and this was a step in that direction.

Back with the others, Aramis slowly began to return to himself. He did so reluctantly, enjoying the pleasant feelings that always came with successful encounters such as this. Though none of his previous encounters had ever been quite *this* successful before. 

“You back with us, love?” Porthos asked as Aramis’ eyes began to clear.

“Somewhat,” Aramis smiled. 

“You are good, I take it?” Athos asked, a bit less familiar than Porthos was with seeing Aramis after such an encounter.

“I am incredible,” Aramis grinned widely making his two lovers grin in return.

Seeing that Aramis was well on his way to being back with them and that Athos and Porthos had things well in hand, D’Artagnan took the opportunity to slip silently from the room. He considered going to his and Athos’ room but headed to the barn instead. He knew that, unless he was truly needed, Athos would not seek him out there.

Settling himself into his usual spot in the last stall, he let his mind wander. He thought things had gone rather well. There had been no missteps and everyone seemed to enjoy the encounter. He was a bit worried, though, for he knew himself well enough to know that he would not be satisfied with a single encounter. He would want this… would want Aramis… again and he was not all sure that would be… wise.

The encounter today had gone well but there had been very firm boundaries in place. If they played this way again, he knew they would both want to test those boundaries. And that scared him. He was not at all sure how far he would want to go with Aramis, let alone how far he should.

And then there was Athos to consider. He had seen how very much his lover had enjoyed the show they had put on. Again he had to wonder if Athos would not want to see *him* submit in such a way. He said he would never ask him for more than he could give and D’Artagnan knew that to be true. But if it was something that affected Athos that strongly, how could D’Artagnan refuse him? It was a conundrum – and one he was not likely to solve in a day.

D’Artagnan had not realized how long he had been merely letting his thoughts run round and round in his head until he heard someone clear his throat. Looking up, he expected to find Athos, but was surprised to find Aramis instead. 

“Enough is enough, love,” Aramis said as he crouched down in front of him. “We shall give you your space if that is what you desire, but at least return to the house with us. Night has fallen and it grows chilly.”

“Sorry,” D’Artagnan grinned, ducking his head even as he got to his feet. “Guess I lost track of time.”

Aramis watched him for a moment then stepped back so he could precede him into the house. When D’Artagnan made to walk past him, he reached out and took hold of his arm, stopping him. “If this has harmed you in some way, D’Artagnan, I shall never forgive myself,” he said earnestly.

“Aramis, no,” D’Artagnan said quickly. “I just… just needed to think through some things for a bit and I wanted to give you all some space as well. I know… well, I know Athos doesn’t always focus on you like he should. I didn’t want to him getting distracted by me.”

“Very well,” Aramis said, understanding what the younger man was trying to do even if he did not completely agree with it. “Just try not to take yourself so completely away from us. We worry when you out of our sight for too long.”


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part did not go anywhere near where I had planned. d'Art got everything side-tracked. Maybe one day this story will end...

Part 44

D’Artagnan insisted on sleeping alone that night. He nearly had to resort to returning to the stable before Aramis had quietly agreed that they would allow him his privacy, much to Athos’ annoyance. He knew his lover was only concerned for him, but he wanted him focused on Aramis tonight. It was why he had distanced himself from them in the first place.

As Porthos drug Athos off toward the room they would share, Aramis hung back for a moment. “You do not need to do this, you know,” he said.

“I know,” D’Artagnan told him. 

“I do not begrudge you…”

“I know you do not,” D’Artagnan interrupted him. “But in trying to ensure that you do not allow your jealousy to take root again, you sometimes fail to ask for that which you need, or even simply desire.”

“Athos does not neglect me,” Aramis told him. “Besides, it is not as if I lack for company. Porthos hardly leaves my side.”

“I am glad of that, but that is beside the point,” D’Artagnan argued. “Athos is your lover as much as he is mine, Aramis. More so, in fact. If you are unwilling to make demands on his time, then… then I shall make them for you.”

“D’Artagnan…”

“Go. Be with them. I shall be but down the hall and I give you my word that I will call for you if I find myself in need of you.”

“Very well,” Aramis acquiesced, knowing he had little choice. He stepped forward and pulled the younger man into a tight embrace. “Athos is not the only one who loves you, Whelp. You would do well to keep that in mind.” That said, he gave him a brief kiss and headed toward the bedroom where Porthos and Athos waited. 

D’Artagnan watched Aramis’ back as he left, a part of him longing to follow the man and simply join the three of them. He did not, however, think that would be wise. Not without at least discussing it with all of the parties involved first. Instead, he watched until he heard Aramis close his bedroom door behind him then he headed to his own room alone.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

The following morning, the three men were surprised when they did not find D’Artagnan already up and about. He was normally the first one of them out of bed, especially if he did not have Athos beside him. Sharing a worried glance with the others, Athos rose to go and check on him just as D’Artagnan slowly entered the room. The dark circles under his eyes and ungainly pace gave mute testimony to the lad’s obvious lack of sleep.

Athos was at his side in an instant, taking him by the arm and guiding him to the table. He sat him down next to Aramis and Porthos then moved to sit down across from them. “What happened?” he asked softly.

“Nothing,” D’Artagnan said, shaking his head as if trying to clear it. “Didn’t get much sleep is all.”

“You promised to call for us if you were in need,” Aramis scolded him gently. 

“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” D’Artagnan told him. He reached out and took Aramis’ hand in his, squeezing it. “Just… strange dreams is all. Not even nightmares, really… just… disconcerting, I guess.”

“Do you want to talk about them?” Aramis asked.

D’Artagnan glanced at Athos and looked away quickly as he felt himself blush slightly. “Not… not right now,” he said, swallowing thickly.

“D’Artagnan?” Athos asked suddenly worried. He did not like the way he had looked at him and then away again, as if ashamed… or afraid. “You know there is nothing you cannot tell me.”

“I know,” D’Artagnan assured him quickly. “It is not you. God, that sounds so ridiculous when I say it out loud. _It is not you, it is me_. As if anyone ever believes that.”

“Easy, lad,” Porthos told him, reaching around Aramis to clasp a hand to D’Artagnan’s shoulder. “We believe you. Whatever it is. You say it’s something goin’ on in your head, then we believe you.”

“Sorry,” he apologized and took a deep breath. “Let me get woke up a bit, alright? Then we can sit down and talk if you’ve a mind to.”

“As you wish,” Athos agreed. “And if you wish to speak to Aramis alone, then I shall understand. I know your talks of late have made you much more at ease with speaking with him.”

“It would be easier, yes,” D’Artagnan agreed, “but not wiser, I do not think. It is not that I do not trust you, that I do not know that I can bare my soul to you without fear of disgust or censure on your part. On any of your parts. But, where certain things are concerned, Aramis is much easier to talk to sometimes.”

“Then how about you _talk_ to Aramis and me and Athos, we’ll just sit and listen?” Porthos suggested. “That way, we’ll know what’s goin’ on and Aramis can still try and make it easy on you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good,” D’Artagnan replied with noticeable relief. 

“Alright then,” Porthos said, standing up. “You just sit there with Aramis while me and Athos see to breakfast this morning.” 

Athos stood as well and took D’Artagnan’s free hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed it softly then placed it back on the table. “We won’t be long,” he said as he followed Porthos into the kitchen.

“He loves you very much,” Aramis remarked once he and D’Artagnan were alone. 

“It is returned in equal, if not greater, measure I assure you.”

“Of that, dear one, I had no doubt,” Aramis smiled at him. He turned his hand over then so that he was holding D’Artagnan’s hand properly. “You love with your whole heart and it shines in your eyes for all to see. Athos is a very lucky man to have earned such honest devotion.”

“And do you think Athos the only one for whom my heart shines?” D’Artagnan asked quietly. He could feel his heart beating faster in his chest and carefully studied the tabletop lest he see the wrong answer in Aramis’ eyes.

“Look at me, mon ami,” Aramis commanded, squeezing his hand reassuringly. He waited patiently until the younger man met his eyes. He could see the fear there, fear of rejection, fear of once again _overstepping_ himself, and it made Aramis’ heart ache. “I am not so blind as to not see what is right in front of me. But what the heart feels… the mind is not always ready to accept. **Are** you ready?”

“I don’t know,” D’Artagnan answered truthfully, though some of the fear left him as he found only acceptance in Aramis’ eyes.

“Fair enough,” Aramis replied. “It can be difficult, I know. One has only to look at how long I willfully blinded myself to my feelings for Porthos to see that. You **will** take the time you need for this and you will **not** allow Athos or anyone else to push you into something you are not ready for.”

“But… if I know what is in my heart, what difference does acknowledging it really make?”

“All the difference in the world,” Aramis told him firmly. “You may never be ready… be comfortable… with acknowledging more than a brother’s love for me. If that is the way it must be, then I will still get down on my knees and thank God for bringing you into my life.” 

“What about yesterday?” 

“And now you are confusing lust with love.”

“Thought you two were waiting for us,” Porthos said from the doorway where he and Athos stood listening.

“We are,” Aramis replied. “This is not about the dreams that plagued him. This is another matter.”

“You sure about that?” Porthos asked.

“Yes, Porthos, I am. Because we began this conversation discussing his love for Athos and that is something D’Artagnan would never find disconcerting.” Aramis had not meant for his voice to grow quite so sharp but he did not like all the pressure that was being placed on their youngest.

“Peace, Aramis,” D’Artagnan said, giving his hand a quick grasp. 

“I am sorry,” Aramis apologized, chagrinned. “I did not mean to get so defensive.” 

“You didn’t get defensive,” Porthos grinned. “You got protective. And I should know better than to push the Whelp like that.”

“Enough talk for now,” Athos said, carrying in the simple breakfast which was about all he and Porthos were capable of. “Let us eat then we can adjourn to the other room and talk if D’Artagnan feels up to it.”

Sooner than D’Artagnan would have truly liked he found himself sitting on the divan next to Aramis with Athos and Porthos on either end. He and Aramis sat turned toward each other with their backs partially toward the other two, giving D’Artagnan at least the illusion of it being just another talk between the two of them.

“Now tell me what has you so discomfited,” Aramis said as he took both of the younger man’s hands in his own. “You said they were not nightmares so I must conclude that they had nothing to do with… before.”

“No, nothing like that,” D’Artagnan agreed. 

“But perhaps something to do with yesterday?” Aramis prompted, looking at him carefully. 

“No,” D’Artagnan said then thought for a moment. “And yes.”

“Explain, please,” Aramis said, ignoring the startled gasps that came from both Athos and Porthos.

“It did not have to do with what we did yesterday directly,” D’Artagnan began then trailed off. He was not sure he could speak of this with Athos there. He did not want to upset his lover and he was afraid the man would end up feeling responsible in some way.

“I see,” Aramis said. He waited for D’Artagnan to speak again but when it became clear that he had no intention to, he decided to forge ahead himself. “So was it your fear of how far you might wish to go in our future encounters that concerned you so? Or rather the fear of what Athos might come to want from you in that regard?”

The sudden loss of all color from D’Artagnan’s face at the latter question told Aramis that he had guessed correctly. He spared a brief glance at Athos and was dismayed to find him nearly as pale as D’Artagnan. He gave Porthos a slight nudge with his foot, letting him know that he would need to keep an eye on Athos as he did not want to pull his attention away from their youngest when he truly needed him.

“Oh, love,” Aramis whispered and brought both of D’Artagnan’s hands to his lips and kissed them. “I know he has told you that he would never ask more of you than you would willingly give. And I know that you believe him in this. So I do not understand what it is you fear so. Can you explain it to me?”

D’Artagnan took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out slowly. He kept tight hold of Aramis’ hands as he began to speak. “I know he would never do such a thing. He would find the very thought of doing so abhorrent. I know this. But I also know how much he thrilled to the sight of you… like that. How the sight of you giving yourself over so completely to another moved him.”

“And you think he would want to see you that way?” Aramis asked.

“I know he would,” D’Artagnan replied. “And how am I to refuse him that? How can I call myself his lover… his brother… and be so selfish as to deny him…”

With a growl, Athos jerked D’Artagnan around to face him on the divan. He gripped him tightly by the arms and shook him. “How dare you!” he snarled, his face etched in anger. “How dare you speak of being selfish for not wishing to-to-to _whore_ yourself to another for my _pleasure_?”

“Athos!” Aramis shouted. He could only stare in shock for long seconds then he was moving, pulling D’Artagnan back toward him even as he snapped at Porthos to get Athos out of there. In the end, all Porthos had to do was break Athos’ grip on the boy. Once he was no longer holding D’Artagnan, Athos practically leapt up from the divan and strode angrily from the room with Porthos following.

“Shhh…” Aramis soothed as he held D’Artagnan to him. Even as he worked to calm the younger man, he worked to calm himself as well. He should never have tried to talk to him with Athos present. He had seen how unsure he was about speaking in front of him and he had blithely assumed that he could handle it. He had been wrong. Again. And D’Artagnan had paid for it.

“I did not think he would react so,” D’Artagnan muttered after a while.

“Nor did I,” Aramis admitted. “I am so sorry, mon cher. I should have paid more mind to your concern and not urged you to speak in front of him.”

“Not your fault,” D’Artagnan told him. “I could have refused. He gave me an out, remember? I didn’t take it. I didn’t think it would make him so angry.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Aramis sighed. “Do you even understand what it is that upset him so?”

“I… not really,” D’Artagnan admitted. “I guess he thinks that I don’t really believe he wouldn’t pressure me.”

“A bit perhaps,” Aramis conceded, “but that is not the crux of it. He is upset, mon cher… livid… enraged beyond reason… at the thought of your making use of your body in a way that _you_ do not desire simply to please _him_. To him, it would be akin to the humiliation and abuse you first thought your fantasies of me were.”

“But I would be willing…”

“No, you would not be,” Aramis told him as gently as he could. He could see how upset D’Artagnan was by everything and knew that overloading him would achieve nothing. “You would be enduring it for Athos’ sake. Were it for his safety, for his life… well, even then he could not abide it but I would understand it. But simply for his _pleasure_?

“Believe me, love, he would find no pleasure in such a thing. He could not. For the pleasure he finds in it is largely from the knowledge that the one submitting is getting just as much, if not more, from the encounter as the one he is submitting to.”

Aramis paused then trying to let his words sink in. He could see how hard D’Artagnan was trying to understand. He could understand the boy’s conundrum. He was truly devoted to Athos. To **not** do something that he knew would bring him intense satisfaction went against his very nature. But he had to understand that Athos would not, could not, permit such a sacrifice. 

“Do you truly think he could have even endured watching me submit to you if he had thought it was an ordeal on my part? Do you think, for one second, that he would have **allowed** it?” Aramis asked. 

“I… I did not think of it that way,” D’Artagnan said. “I only thought that…”

“That he should have every good thing that we can give him,” Aramis finished for him. “Yes, I know. And I would give him that myself. But not at our expense, D’Artagnan. Never at our expense. Athos would be devastated if he were to find out that we made such a sacrifice for him. It would, quite simply, break him.”

“I’m sorry,” D’Artagnan gasped and suddenly wrapped his arms around Aramis middle and buried his face in the other man’s neck. “I did not mean to hurt him. I would never…”

“I know, love. I know,” Aramis said as he petted him. “And he does as well. You just took him by surprise and scared him a bit. Porthos will look after him until he calms down, don’t worry.”

“I should go find him,” D’Artagnan said as he started to pull away.

Aramis tightened his grip, refusing to let him pull back. “Not yet,” he said. “I would have you tell me of your dreams, if you are able.”

“They do not matter now,” D’Artagnan tried to argue.

“I think they do,” Aramis said. “I do not want them to continue to plague you and I’m afraid they will if we do not speak of them. And who knows, perhaps we can come up with something between the two of us that Athos would still find inspiring and yet you would not find… distasteful.”

“I am not sure that is possible,” D’Artagnan chuckled. “The only men I am comfortable with in that regard are you three and Athos has already stated that he does not prefer such a dominant role.”

“That does still leave two of us,” Aramis told him. “But that is a discussion for later. Much later. For now, let us speak of your dreams and what it is about them that troubles you.”

D’Artagnan huffed then simply relaxed into Aramis’ embrace. He knew the other man was right, of course, but that did little to ease his discomfort. He would have thought, after all of their long talks about his fantasies, that he would be more at ease speaking about such things. However, this time he found himself unexpectedly reticent.

“I will not force you,” Aramis said softly as he continued to hold him and stroke his hands up and down his back. “If you do not wish to speak of it then we shall not. Just know that I am here for you if you have need of me.”

“I’m sorry. I do not know where this sudden trepidation comes from. After everything we’ve talked of you would think I would be past such things.”

“But that was different. Then you were more concerned with my well-being. You were worried that Athos would think you abusive for your desires. This time… you fear he will think you a coward.”

Aramis felt D’Artagnan go completely still in his arms at his words. He prepared himself to have to fight to keep the younger man there with him, fully expecting him to try to escape. D’Artagnan surprised him yet again by tightening his grip around Aramis’ waist instead and burying his face against his neck once more.

Taking his continued presence as a positive sign, Aramis continued. “You are wrong, you know. He would never… could never… think such a thing of you.”

“But you can do it,” D’Artagnan reasoned. “Why should I be any different?”

“Because we are different people,” Aramis told him. “We have different beliefs and views and pasts and desires. Tell me, do you think for one second that Porthos could submit to another in such a way and find any pleasure in it at all?”

“If it were you…”

“It would still be something to be _endured_ not enjoyed,” Aramis argued. 

“Yeah, okay. I see your point there.”

“And do you think him a coward for it?”

“Of course not,” D’Artagnan shot back. “But he would not be **scared** to do it. He might find it… distasteful, as you put it, but that would not be enough to stop him… to make him nearly vomit at the very thought…”

“Alright, perhaps another example then,” Aramis said, schooling his voice. He knew he was treading on very shaky ground here but he needed their Whelp to understand. 

“Aramis, don’t,” D’Artagnan warned.

“So you already know what I am going to say then,” Aramis replied evenly and nodded. “It must be quite difficult for Athos, knowing his young lover thinks him…”

Aramis never got to finish what he was going to say before D’Artagnan had reared back in his arms. One hand shot up to fist in Aramis’ hair, jerking his head back hard and baring his throat to the man. “Do. Not.”

“You… you see my point then,” Aramis gasped, straining to keep any trace of fear from his voice. He had expected a reaction but the murderous intent in the younger man’s eyes had caught him off guard. 

“After all he has endured, that you would dare even think such a thing,” D’Artagnan snarled and pulled Aramis’ head back even further making the man gasp aloud.

“I do not,” Aramis vowed. “I only wanted you to think. I swear, D’Artagnan.”

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity to Aramis before D’Artagnan blinked and shook his head then slowly released the punishing grip on his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered unable to meet Aramis’ eyes. He began to back away, but was halted by Aramis’ hands on his arms pulling him back against him and wrapping around him once more.

“Not your fault,” Aramis whispered back as he held him and tried to get his heart to stop thundering in his chest. 

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, Whelp,” Aramis told him truthfully. “And I would never think such a thing of our Athos. He has endured so much that would break a lesser man and yet somehow managed to come out whole.”

“Then why would you even suggest such a thing?”

“I only wanted to illustrate how our pasts can shape us, can effect what we can and cannot find pleasure in. I have no doubt that, God forbid it ever be necessary, you could – and would – endure whatever you had to.”

D’Artagnan thought about Aramis’ words then thought back over their conversation. He could see now what he had been trying to do and winced at his reaction. “I’m sorry I frightened you.”

“You did not.”

“Don’t lie to me, Aramis,” D’Artagnan admonished softly. “I am intimately aware of what fear looks like in your eyes. I am so sorry I have given you cause to direct such a look at me.”

“It’s alright,” Aramis replied, simply unable to not comfort the younger man in his distress. He knew he had not meant to scare him and it was his own fault for pushing so hard when he knew he was already upset.

“You forgive far too easily.”

“I have said the same of you on several occasions,” Aramis chuckled. “Especially where I am concerned. Now, shall we go and see where Athos and Porthos have gotten off to?”

D’Artagnan pulled back with a frown. “Am I… Do you wish me… not so close?”

“What? No,” Aramis replied. He was unsure what to do. He did not want to seem to push D’Artagnan away but he was not sure either of them was up to much more at the moment. He did not want to end up pushing too hard again.

D’Artagnan studied him for a moment then settled back against him. “It… The dreams… It is not so much the _acts_ that I found… distasteful.”

“Then what was it?” Aramis prompted carefully.

“The other… participants.”

“I take it Athos was not among them?”

“No,” D’Artagnan said flatly. “Athos… he does not wish to… that is not the role he prefers.”

“So who were the other, uh, participants in your dreams?”

“They varied,” D’Artagnan told him. “Sometimes they were merely faceless men. Other times…” D’Artagnan could not suppress a shudder as he remembered the various men that had rotated through his dreams – strangers, acquaintances, other Musketeers – each of them turning his stomach a little more than the last.

“Easy, mon cher,” Aramis soothed when he felt D’Artagnan begin to tremble. “You need not tell me any of their names. But… am I safe to assume that neither of them were Porthos or myself?”

“No,” D’Artagnan shook his head. “It was not either of you. That… that would not have sickened me.”

“Oh you precious…” Aramis huffed. “Do you truly believe Athos would be _able_ to watch anyone other than one of us being with you in such a way? Believe me, mon petit, he would kill any man that dared try to touch you like that.”

“I had not thought…” D’Artagnan trailed off. He hesitated for a few moments then began again. “I only knew that it would not be him and… I did not think that you…”

“That I would enjoy such a thing from the other side of it?” Aramis clarified. He smiled and placed a soft kiss on the other man’s temple. “I am not averse to such an arrangement. I have played both roles and enjoyed them both. It would be no hardship on my part to be with you in such a way. But only if it is something you truly think you could enjoy for your own sake as much as Athos’.”

D’Artagnan frowned and opened his mouth to reply but Aramis kissed his temple again, startling him into silence once more.

“I can feel you frowning,” he said. “But you need only recall the questions you asked me before _our_ encounter. You refused to even consider going through with it unless I could assure you that I would be getting something from the encounter myself.”

“I guess I had not thought about it that way,” D’Artagnan replied.

“You seldom do,” Aramis told him and felt him frown again. “You are forever putting our wants and needs before your own. Last night being a prime example of such. And while we will allow it to a certain extent, because it is a part of who you are, there are some things that we shall never allow.”

They grew quiet after that. Aramis wanted to give D’Artagnan time to take in all they had discussed and the new options he had presented to him. He still had a few questions for him but he would let the majority of them wait for now. 

“Aramis,” D’Artagnan called softly, breaking the other man from his thoughts.

“Yes?”

“Do you think Athos meant it? When he, uh, called me a whore?” D’Artagnan’s voice was hesitant as if he was afraid of the answer Aramis might give him but needing to know all the same.

“No, love,” Aramis said, swallowing at the sudden lump in his throat. “And I am quite sure Porthos has already taken him to task for his choice of words. He was both scared and angry and we both know how vicious Athos can be at such times.”

“I suppose.”

“Trust me. I can speak with him about it if it will ease your mind,” Aramis offered.

“No, that’s okay,” D’Artagnan told him. He had dragged Aramis into this too far as it was. He could face Athos on his own.

“As you wish,” Aramis said. “I do have one more question for you, if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead.”

“You have spoken of Athos and me in regards to assisting you, yet you have not spoken of Porthos,” Aramis said cautiously. “Is it because of…”

“No,” D’Artagnan replied quickly then sighed. “At least I don’t think so. Or not directly. I’m not making sense again.”

“Take your time. I only wish to understand so that I might help.”

D’Artagnan took a steadying breath then placed a kiss on the side of Aramis’ neck. “It is not that I fear him or anything like that,” he began. “Nor is it from a lack of desire. I have seen him with the two of you. He is a very… desirous man in his passion.”

“But…” Aramis prompted when D’Artagnan fell silent.

“But I am not at all sure how either Athos or you would react to seeing him being so openly domineering to another so soon after… everything,” D’Artagnan told him unable to find a way to soften the words.

Aramis froze at the other man’s words and closed his eyes against the sudden onslaught of memories. With a sharp shake of his head, he forced them away, concentrating instead on the worried young man in his arms. 

“You… are a very intuitive man, D’Artagnan, and I do not know what any of us would do without you,” Aramis told him, his voice strained with emotion. “I had not even considered what memories such a thing might evoke for any of us. Perhaps, one day, we may all be able… but that day is not today, nor will it be for quite some time to come.”

“I will always protect you,” D’Artagnan promised him. 

“And I you, brother,” Aramis placed a last kiss to his temple and pushed D’Artagnan back from him. “Now, we really must go and find the others before they return and find me sobbing like an infant.”

“Alright,” D’Artagnan grinned and stood. He held his hand out to Aramis and pulled him from the divan. Before he could move away, D’Artagnan stepped in closer and kissed him lightly on the mouth then stepped back, the stunned yet pleased look on Aramis’ face warming his heart.


	45. Chapter 45

Part 45

They found the two men in the barn brushing out their horses. It was clear both men were tense and D’Artagnan hesitated in the entryway. “We can return to the house if you would like,” Aramis told him, unwilling to force any further encounters between D’Artagnan and Athos just now.

D’Artagnan hesitated, unsure what to do. Part of him wanted to seek out Athos’ comfort yet part of him would rather flee than face his wrath again. Looking between the three men, he knew he had to do something – move forward or go back, but he could not seem to make his feet move.

Athos had stiffened at Aramis’ words and leaned his head against his horse’s flank. D’Artagnan’s silence tore at him and he was scared of what he might see in his lover’s eyes if he turned around. “Please do not run from me,” he softly beseeched. “I did not mean to behave so boorishly toward you as to make you avoid my company.”

“It’s alright,” D’Artagnan said as he made himself step fully into the barn. Once inside, it was easy enough to move up behind Athos. “I’m sorry. I did not intend to make you angry.”

“I am the one who should be apologizing, not you,” Athos all but moaned. He felt D’Artagnan’s arms wrap around him from behind and brought his hands down to clutch at them. He let his head fall back and rest upon the younger man’s shoulder then. “Promise me… Promise me you will never…”

“I promise,” D’Artagnan said quickly. “Not unless I want it, too. And only then with your express permission.”

A shudder wracked Athos’ body at D’Artagnan’s solemn words. Once it had passed, he turned in his arms and hugged him tight, burying his face in the side of his neck. “Thank you,” he whispered reverently as the fear that had been churning inside of him all morning finally began to dissipate. 

While Athos and D’Artagnan worked on reconnecting, Porthos moved over to stand beside Aramis. “You okay?” he asked quiet enough so as not to be overheard by the other two.

“I will be,” he replied. He was still terribly worried about their youngest and felt that a great deal of the fault for today’s debacle was his. He only hoped that he had helped the lad realize that giving himself in any way that he did not find enjoyable as well would only end up hurting Athos. Not to mention his own feelings on the matter.

“You want to talk about it?” Porthos asked. He could see how upset Aramis was. Whatever he and the Whelp had talked about it had clearly left its mark upon them both. “You two didn’t end up fightin’ as well, did you?”

“No, not as such,” Aramis hedged. He glanced at Porthos and saw the way his eyes narrowed at his attempt at evasion. “He was being obstinate. I was, perhaps, less tactful than I should have been considering his mental state at the time. Things grew a bit… heated, however we remedied them.”

“Heated? How heated?” Porthos asked, his brow creasing. He studied Aramis closely, reading everything from the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot unconsciously to the way he refused to take his eyes from the pair across the barn. For one horrified second, Porthos thought that the lad might have actually _hurt_ Aramis but he bore no mark nor did he give any indication of pain. 

“I was only trying to get him to understand,” Aramis whispered, his voice taking on a dejected tone. “I did not mean what I said. I would never think such a thing of Athos. But I did not know what else to say to make him see.”

“Aramis,” Porthos said softly as he took him by the arm and turned him to face him. “Did he hurt you?”

“What?” Aramis gasped. “No, of course not! He got angry, and rightly so. He… he may have been a bit threatening… but he did not hurt me. He did not even scare me… not truly.”

Porthos pulled him into his arms then and held him. He felt Aramis burrow into the embrace and he gripped him even tighter, leaning down and nuzzling his face into his hair. He wanted to know exactly what had gone on between the two but he would not ask, not now. He would find out eventually, though he doubted if he would lecture the boy over it. Aramis seemed to think the fault was his and Porthos knew there was little he could do to dissuade him. 

Besides, Aramis was protective of the Whelp on a _good_ day. Right now, challenging the boy would be akin to poking a cub with a stuck while the mother bear watched. Porthos had no desire to end up with a bloody stump where his arm used to be.

“Is Aramis alright?” D’Artagnan’s voice cut through Porthos’ musings bringing him quickly back to the present. He looked up to see the other two men watching them with concerned looks on their faces. He opened his mouth to reply but Aramis was quicker.

“I’m fine,” he said pulling back from Porthos. “Do the other horses need tending? I can see to them while you lot return to the house.”

“They have been seen to,” Athos told him. He schooled his features, hiding his growing concern. He knew how Aramis got when cornered and it was clear he was feeling just that, as evidenced by his rather clumsy attempt to separate himself from the rest of them. “But if you’ve a mind, yours could probably do with a bit of exercise. I know she has not been ridden recently and the trails to the east are quite nice at this time of day.”

Aramis stared for a moment then smiled and shook his head. “Perhaps later,” he replied, grateful to Athos for the excuse should he have need of it. 

“As you wish,” Athos said with a tilt of his head. 

They returned to the house and, by unspoken agreement, made no further mention of D’Artagnan’s dreams. Aramis was satisfied that he understood the ramifications if he were to act without thinking and was willing to let the matter drop until such time as D’Artagnan wished to broach the subject again. He had a feeling Athos would not be quite so lenient but that was between the two of them. 

Still feeling emotionally drained, Aramis secreted himself in the library. He picked up the book he had been reading but merely held it in his lap. Porthos came in and sat with him for a time but soon left, understanding that what Aramis needed was both space and peace to work through whatever was going on in his head. He thought about confronting D’Artagnan again, but ultimately decided against it. The boy was still a bit on edge and he didn’t want things to end up getting loud and disturbing Aramis. 

“Is he alright?” D’Artagnan asked when Porthos came out of the library to join them in the main hall once more.

“Just got a lot on his mind,” Porthos replied.

“Do you want me to try to talk to him?” Athos asked. He felt responsible. None of this would have happened if he had not lost control so badly earlier.

“Nah,” Porthos said. “Not much point really. He’s just sittin’ in there starin’ out the window. Like I said, he’s got a lot on his mind.”

“I’m sorry,” D’Artagnan said softly.

“Not your fault,” Porthos replied automatically then stopped himself as his frustration got the better of him. “Well, it is, but Aramis’ll have my hide if I say any-bloody-thing so, like I said, not your fault.”

“Porthos?” Athos queried with a frown, not understanding.

Porthos sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. He had not meant to say that aloud. “Don’t pay any attention to me,” he said. “I’m just worried about Aramis.”

“Tell me what you meant,” Athos insisted. He was looking steadily at Porthos but when he glanced at D’Artagnan the guilt he saw on the younger man’s face made his insides lurch painfully.

“I didn’t mean nothin’,” Porthos tried again but one look at D’Artagnan’s miserable expression told him he was going to have to say something. “Him and Aramis got into it a bit. Aramis said things got ‘heated’. Said the Whelp didn’t scare him or nothin’, but…”

“But I did,” D’Artagnan said softly, his voice strangled. “I scared him. I didn’t mean to. I swear I didn’t.”

“We know that,” Porthos said. “Aramis knows it, too. He was tryin’ to get a reaction out of ya and he did. He just wasn’t expecting it to be the one it was, I don’t think.”

“I didn’t… What he said…” D’Artagnan trailed off. He was not about to repeat what Aramis had said to him. He knew it was only to get through to him, that he did not believe what he had said for one second, but he was not going to take the chance on Athos possibly thinking otherwise.

“Was this truly necessary?” Aramis asked from the doorway as he took in the scene. His voice was as cold as ice and he was glaring at Porthos. “Has he not been put through enough today without having his reactions during a _private_ conversation passed judgment upon?”

“Yeah,” Porthos grumbled. “Should’a kept my damn mouth shut. Worse than a bear with a fuckin’ **cub**.”

“What did you say?” Aramis snarled as he all but stalked across the room and over to the divan where Porthos sat. He was gratified when the bigger man actually reared back at his approach. He opened his mouth to tell him exactly what he thought when a touch on his arm startled him. 

“Don’t. Please,” D’Artagnan said softly. “Don’t fight. He was only worried for you. He did not say anything that was not the truth. He did not even offer me any reproach other than to say your… your worries were caused by me.”

“He should not have even said that much,” Aramis replied but there was no heat to his words. 

“He loves you, Aramis,” D’Artagnan told him, exasperation evident in his voice. “He is going to protect you regardless of whether you want him to or not. And it will not matter who he is protecting you from, be it an enemy from without… or from within.”

“You are no enemy, D’Artagnan.”

“No,” he smiled. “But I hurt you. Not physically, I know. But I hurt you, nonetheless. I scared you. And we both know how much worse that is than any physical blow I could have landed.”

Aramis looked away from the younger man and his eyes fell on Porthos. He saw the wariness in his lover’s eyes and felt his anger dissolve. Reaching out, he let his fingers softly trace along Porthos’ temple in mute apology and was thankful when the wariness in his eyes turned to relief.

“So, while I may not _be_ an enemy,” D’Artagnan continued, “for one brief moment I _was_ Porthos’ enemy because I had hurt the one person in the world he cherishes above all else. And since Athos has not said one single word this entire time, I must conclude that I was his enemy, ever so briefly, as well.”

“Alright stop right there,” Porthos said unable to take any more. “You ain’t my enemy. You never been my enemy and you never will be. You made a mistake. And yeah, it made me mad cause you hurt him and that… you gotta understand, Whelp, I’d rather take a knife to the ribs than see him get so much as a scratch.”

“Porthos…” Aramis groaned as he crouched down in front of him. 

“But that’s as far as it went,” Porthos continued ignoring Aramis. “I was mad and I was worried but that was all. I don’t ever wanna hear you talk about there bein’ enemies between us again. You hear me?”

D’Artagnan nodded, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. He truly would not have blamed Porthos for any of it. He knew exactly how much Aramis meant to him. He was also quite well acquainted with just how Porthos dealt with _any_ threat to Aramis’ well-being, physical or otherwise, and that was _before_ they had become lovers.

“So help me God, Athos, if you don’t open your mouth and reassure the Whelp right now, I’m gonna take you outside and knock some bloody sense into you,” Porthos growled when Athos remained silent. 

Athos blinked at Porthos then turned to D’Artagnan. With a jerk, he pulled the younger man into a tight embrace. “How you could think that… of either of us… but especially of me… I love you, D’Artagnan. And while I am not _pleased_ that you and Aramis quarreled, I know the fault is mainly my own. But even if it were not, that would not make us enemies. You are our **brother**. First and foremost, you are our brother. Nothing, no quarrel, no misunderstanding, no crossing of boundaries whether real or imagined will ever, ever change that.”

“What do we need to do to make you believe us?” Aramis asked, a note of desperation in his voice. He was still crouched down in front of Porthos and turned now to face D’Artagnan and Athos. “I know it is not entirely our doing. We are all shaped by our pasts more so than we wish.”

“What do you mean?” D’Artagnan asked frowning. He held out a hand to Aramis and pulled him up to sit between him and Porthos. 

“You have lost so very much since your journey began, have you not?” Aramis said softly. “Every stable influence in your life has been ripped away from you one by one. First your father, then the rest of your family when you chose to remain in Paris, then your farm. It is only natural that you fear losing what you have found here, with us, as well.”

“I must seem quite pathetic to you,” D’Artagnan mumbled.

“Do not be absurd,” Aramis chided. “You are no more pathetic in my eyes than any of my brothers. When I look at you, I see the youth and innocence that we all lost a long time ago. And I say a prayer every night that you manage to hold on to both of those for much longer than we did.”

D’Artagnan slowly disentangled himself from Athos’ embrace and carefully wrapped his arms around Aramis’ middle. He rested his head against the man’s chest and sighed when Aramis wrapped his own arms around him in return. 

“We shall keep telling you until it takes root,” Aramis vowed. “You are ours and we are yours and nothing shall change that, precious boy.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

D’Artagnan was subdued for the remainder of the day. He stayed particularly close to Aramis, growing distressed whenever he was away for more than a few minutes even with Athos there to comfort him in his stead. It got to the point that, when the younger man dozed off in his arms, that he cast a worried and somewhat apologetic glance toward Athos.

“Do not fret so,” Athos told him softly so as not to awaken D’Artagnan. “I shall never begrudge you the comfort he finds in your arms.”

“Yeah,” Porthos added, drawing Aramis’ attention over to him. “Don’t make us give you the same speech you gave the Whelp.”

Aramis flushed lightly at their words and looked down at the man sleeping so trustingly in his arms. “I did not intend for this,” he whispered. “I swear, I did not.”

“Don’t see where that really matters now,” Porthos replied. “We’re not mad, love. And we’re not jealous. Guess you just got us all wrapped around your pretty little finger.”

“I’m sorry.” The guilt in Aramis’ voice tore at his lovers and both of them reached out needing to offer what comfort they could. 

“Don’t,” Athos told him as forcefully as he could while still keeping his voice low enough not to wake their sleeping fourth. “I will not listen to you attempt to apologize for being the kind of man that we can all so easily love. Nor will I listen to you apologize for loving D’Artagnan in return. To do either would be an insult to all of us.”

Aramis fell silent, letting Athos’ words sink in. He still felt that he should have at least spoken to the others about his growing feelings for the boy but he had seen how hard D’Artagnan was struggling with his own realization and did not want Athos or Porthos to make things any harder under the auspices of trying to “help”. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, love,” Porthos said, able to read Aramis all too easily, then grinned. “It wasn’t as if we didn’t _know_ you were fallin’ for him.”

Aramis jerked his head toward Porthos. The mirth he saw reflected in his lover’s eyes made him frown. This was not some game and he did not appreciate D’Artagnan’s feelings being treated as such. 

“Oh, hey now,” Porthos said attempting to placate him. “I was just teasin’ you a bit. We seen what was happening and we knew you wanted us to keep our noses out of it, so we did. That’s all.”

“I did take your words to heart,” Athos added, “when you cautioned me about being overly rash where his feelings were concerned. I knew you felt I had pushed him before and I did not want to make such a mistake again.”

Aramis shook his head and sighed. “I’m sorry,” he apologized again. “I do not mean to take my apprehensions out on you.”

“You’re worried?” Porthos asked.

“Yes,” Aramis replied, unconsciously tightening his grip on D’Artagnan. “This will complicate things for all of us, surely you must see that.”

“I don’t know,” Porthos mused. “Might just make things easier. Boy may not worry so much about his place if he feels it’s more than just Athos he’s got a tether to.”

“He does not need…”

“I didn’t say he did,” Porthos interrupted before Aramis could even get started. “But that doesn’t change the way he might see it. You know he gets some funny ideas in that head of his.”

“I know,” Aramis agreed. “But he may not be as ready for this as you two seem to think he is, all appearances to the contrary.”

“You have spoken of this with him?” Athos asked.

“Yes,” Aramis replied. “He is attempting to come to terms with his feelings, but I have cautioned him that he may never be comfortable being more than brothers with me. If that is the case, then I will accept it.”

“Aramis…” Porthos trailed off, unsure what to say. He knew how much wanting to reach out to the boy but being unable to do so in the manner he wished would end up hurting Aramis in the long run but there was not much to be done for it if D’Artagnan was unwilling, or unable, to accept it.

“It will be alright, Porthos,” Aramis assured him. “I will take him on whatever terms he wishes and be grateful for the privilege. If we can share no more than this and the occasional encounter as we shared yesterday then I will be content. Or learn to be at any rate.”

“And if I wish you to be more than simply content?” D’Artagnan asked softly from the vicinity of Aramis’ chest. He had awakened during their conversation and had listened to them talk. He had taken as much comfort from Aramis’ words as he did from the man’s arms around him. At least he had until Aramis had begun to speak of merely contenting himself with whatever D’Artagnan decided to grace him with.

“We have had this conversation, love,” Aramis told him. He noticed Athos and Porthos smiling widely at him and realized what he had said. The endearment had become second nature to him with D’Artagnan now and he felt himself flush hotly at the knowledge that he had used it in front of his two lovers. He tried to think if he had called him that in front of them before, but he could not remember.

“Aramis?” D’Artagnan queried when he felt him go still and his arms tense around him. 

“Sorry,” Aramis choked, forcing himself to relax. He looked studiously down at the top of D’Artagnan’s head so he would not have to meet the eyes of the others.

“Since when are you so bashful?” Porthos laughed. He watched Aramis as he continued to keep his eyes glued to the boy, refusing to even glance at them. He frowned at Athos and saw his own concern mirrored back at him. “I guess we do need to give you the same speech you gave the Whelp after all.”

A self-deprecating chuckle was Aramis’ only reply for long moments. Then he leaned his head back onto the divan so he was staring up at the ceiling. “That will not be necessary,” he said at last. 

“What speech was that?” D’Artagnan asked, unsure what they were talking about.

“Were you not listening?” Athos teased lightly.

“I think I might have actually been asleep for that part,” he replied.

“The speech about oversteppin’ lines and how there aren’t any bloody lines to being with so there’s no way to overstep any,” Porthos said bluntly.

“Oh, that speech,” was D’Artagnan’s only reply.

“Exactly.”

“As Porthos has said, this is not a surprise to us, Aramis,” Athos began, hoping to soothe Aramis’ fears. “And it is clear that D’Artagnan has no qualms with you referring to him in such a way. Please do not feel the need to censor yourself simply because we are present.” 

“What he said,” Porthos put in, wanting to make sure Aramis understood that he had as little issue with his feelings for the boy as Athos seemed to. In fact, he thought it would probably do him a world of good. Aramis always thrived when he had someone to dote on, someone to fuss over and protect. D’Artagnan would fill that void in a way that he and Athos simply could not. Not unless one of them was grievously injured and Porthos did not want to have to go quite that far to indulge Aramis’ **mothering** tendencies.

D’Artagnan waited until Aramis seemed calm before speaking again. “You did not answer my question,” he said.

“What question was that?” Aramis attempted to deflect.

“What if I wish you to be more than simply content with me?” 

“Then I would spend a significant amount of my time that was not taken up by the three of you trying to figure out whatever it was I could have done to deserve such a blessing in my life,” Aramis replied, the sincere truth in his words there for all to hear. “But you will not do this thing for me alone.”

“As you said, we have had that conversation already as well,” D’Artagnan replied. “And I would never be so cruel to you. I know it must be for me as well. If not, then… well, Athos put it quite fittingly I think.”

They fell silent after that, each man thinking about the events of the day and what they might mean for all of them. D’Artagnan stayed wrapped up in Aramis’ arms, his head pillowed on his chest, the strong pulse of his heart beating into his ear threatening to lull him to sleep once more.

“Think somebody might be ready for bed,” Porthos said when he noticed D’Artagnan fighting to keep his eyes open.

“It has been a trying day and he did not get much rest last night,” Athos agreed. He started to rise then paused, thinking. He would be a fool not to see that it was Aramis his young lover wanted close to him right now. He had to wonder if that desire would extend to whom he wished to sleep beside as well. 

Athos looked across the pair at Porthos and saw the same understanding in his eyes. He saw the slightest trace of fear there as well and made a note to speak to him about it. Mostly, though, he saw the love and understanding and acceptance that he had come to expect from Porthos wherever Aramis was concerned. 

Clearing his throat, Athos chose his next words very carefully. “If you would rather sleep with Aramis tonight…” He let the words hang, his permission and approval both tacit. 

D’Artagnan tensed, his arms automatically tightening around Aramis’ waist. Aramis’ own arms tightened around him as well and he gave Athos a startled look as if he had not expected him to make such an offer.

“I have imposed too much already,” D’Artagnan sighed though he did not release the hold he had on the other man.

“’Imposed’, he says,” Porthos huffed. “Do you hear Aramis complainin’?”

“Aramis is not the one I am imposing upon,” D’Artagnan replied. 

Porthos gaped at him then looked to Athos. Unfortunately, he looked as stunned by D’Artagnan’s words as Porthos. “Of all the…” Porthos nearly growled. “Now you’re worried about oversteppin’ with **me**? With **Athos**?”

“Porthos, enough,” Aramis said firmly. “Snarling and snapping at him will not serve to lessen his fears.”

“Then what will?” Porthos barked as he fought to rein in the sudden anger he felt.

“Time and patience,” Aramis replied. “He will not put his family at risk, Porthos. He will sacrifice his happiness without hesitation if it means we remain together. Just as you were willing to do when you first learned of my feelings for you. Just as Athos was willing to do as well. We are none of us so different; we have just learned to trust each other more readily. He has not had the time to learn that yet.”

“Patience ain’t exactly one of my strengths,” he replied, visibly calmer. 

“Really?” Athos commented. “You hide it so well.” It was enough to make D’Artagnan and Porthos both chuckle and ease the earlier tension. 

“I’m sorry, Whelp,” Porthos apologized a moment later. “I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. I just hate you thinkin’ you could do _anything_ that would ever make us turn our backs on you.”

“I have an idea,” Aramis said. He had not missed the way D’Artagnan had watched him when he had gone to lie with Athos and Porthos the previous night. “I know that neither of the beds in our rooms will hold the four of us together, but perhaps if we put two of them together in one of the rooms we could all fit.”

“Oh,” D’Artagnan gasped, something warm uncoiling inside of him at the thought of being there together with all of his brothers.

“Would you like that, love?” Aramis asked him.

“Yes,” D’Artagnan replied eagerly. “I would… I would like that very much.”

With a grin, Porthos stood up with Athos right behind him. “You two sit tight,” he said. “We’ll get the room ready.”

Aramis and D’Artagnan watched them go and just before they reached the room they heard Porthos tell Athos, “You know, at this rate you’re gonna have to put Aramis in charge of tactics from now on.” They were fairly certain even the horses heard Athos’ squawk of indignation.


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is a bit short but I wanted to get it out there.

Part 46

In the end, they pushed the beds up against two of the walls so that they actually had to crawl onto them but they did not mind. Athos took the side closest to the wall, with D’Artagnan and Aramis piling in after him, leaving Porthos closest to the door. Within minutes, D’Artagnan was once more asleep, his head pillowed on Aramis’ shoulder as the man held him. Athos lay at his back, his own arm wrapped around the younger man’s middle and his breath ghosting along the back of his neck. Athos thought that he could get used to this very quickly.

Porthos lay on his side, facing them, one big arm thrown over all three of them. He felt more content in that moment than he had in a long time. He knew this was what they all needed and he would move Heaven and earth to see that they had it. Even if he could not altogether stop that little tendril of worry at the back of his head, he vowed to ignore it. Aramis had been right about one thing. There was nothing he would not do, nothing he would not sacrifice to see his family safe and happy. 

Lying peacefully together, it was not long before sleep claimed each of them.

D’Artagnan awoke early as he normally did when not plagued by incessant dreams. He felt a body at both his front and back and had a moment of confusion before the events of the day before came back. He glanced up and saw that he was lying almost face to face with Aramis, the other man’s body pressed all along his front. He saw Porthos’ dark arm draped across them and he could feel Athos’ solid presence at his back.

As his body came more awake, he began to register other things as well. First was the feel of something hard pressing into his thigh. He frowned for a second before he realized exactly what it was that was digging into him so. Then came the feel of something equally hard pressing into his hip from behind. At the realization that both Aramis and Athos were wrapped around him with their erections firmly pressing into him, D’Artagnan moaned aloud.

Porthos’ eyes shot open at the sound of one of his brothers in distress. He squinted, his eyes adjusting to the light and saw that D’Artagnan was awake. It did not take him long to see that it was not distress that had caused their youngest to moan so. “Got ya feelin’ a bit randy, have they?” he grinned broadly.

“They’re both so hard,” D’Artagnan groaned, ducking his face down as he fought not to grind against either of them.

“They ain’t the only ones, Whelp,” Porthos growled, affected by the proximity of his lovers as well.

“Fuck,” D’Artagnan gasped, his own cock jerking at the hungry look in Porthos’ eyes.

“You need me to go, D’Artagnan, you need to tell me now,” Porthos told him seriously. “’Cause if I stay much longer…”

“I don’t want you to go,” D’Artagnan told him honestly. “Please… all of us… together…”

“Dios,” Aramis gasped. He has awoken to their whispered conversation and D’Artagnan’s words made his blood run hot. He pushed back into Porthos, feeling his hardness pressing against his backside and leaned forward to steal D’Artagnan’s lips in a kiss.

“Oh fuck,” Porthos panted as Aramis pushed back and he rubbed his erection against him. Only their small clothes separated them and he desperately wanted to remove that barrier and feel his lover’s skin. “Athos, wake up already.”

“If you think I could sleep through that, you are insane,” Athos replied as he tightened his arm around D’Artagnan’s waist and ground his own hardness against the younger man. The moan he pulled out of him, though muffled by Aramis’ kiss, was no less gratifying and Athos felt himself throb in response. 

With a last nip to D’Artagnan’s mouth, Aramis pulled back, breaking their kiss. He rested his forehead against the other man’s so that they were practically panting into each other’s mouths. “D’Artagnan,” he managed, his mind refusing to cooperate as Porthos gripped his hip tightly and ground their bodies together. “What… what do you want? Tell us, please. Whatever it is…”

“Oh… oh…” D’Artagnan moaned, unable to answer for a moment as Athos began to bite and suck at the back of his neck as he rutted against him. “I don’t… I don’t know…”

“Shhh,” Aramis soothed. He kissed and nipped at D’Artagnan’s mouth again as he let his hands move down to his waist and then lower to grip the hardness he found there.

“Aramis!” D’Artagnan gasped, tearing his mouth away and thrusting forward into his hand. He felt Porthos’ big hand settle on his hip and squeeze and Athos’ arm around his middle pull him taut for a moment as well. The feel of all three of them touching him was nearly more than he could take as his body tried to process input from so many sources at once.

“Do you want my hand, love?” Aramis asked softly. He continued to hold D’Artagnan’s erection in his hand, not stroking it but simply letting him feel his hand on it through his small clothes.

“Please,” D’Artagnan begged, already nearly out of his mind with desire.

“Do you want Athos and Porthos to stay?” Aramis asked as he began working the laces of D’Artagnan’s linens. 

“I want… I want…”

“What, love?” Athos whispered into his ear as he nipped and sucked it.

“I want you to… to rub against us… while… while we touch each other,” D’Artagnan stammered, his face flushing hotly as he said the words. 

“Fuck,” Porthos growled, his grip on D’Artagnan’s hip tightening unconsciously. 

Aramis went completely still as the words washed over him. He felt his bollocks tighten alarmingly and gasped aloud. “If your intent is to make me spill in my small clothes, love, you are coming dangerously close,” he rasped.

“Naked now,” Athos ordered, “or Aramis won’t be the only one in danger of soiling his linen.”

Aramis quickly returned to divesting D’Artagnan of his clothes, undoing the laces and easing them down his legs and off. He took a moment to drink in the sight of the man, hard and flushed for him then reached for his own laces. He was startled to encounter D’Artagnan’s hands reaching for him as well. He stilled his hands then and let him do as he would, lifting his hips when he was bade to so his small clothes would be slid down and off of him as well.

Porthos and Athos watched the pair avidly as they shed their own remaining clothes. This was so different from their earlier encounter. Both men were being so careful with each other, their touches conveying love and tenderness as much as need and want. That alone was enough to calm the fires burning within the other two and let them gentle their touches. 

“You sure you want us to…” Porthos ventured as D’Artagnan and Aramis began to touch each other. 

“Yes,” D’Artagnan replied. “All of us. Please…”

“Anything you want, love,” Aramis promised him as he brought their mouths together again. He let his hands roam over D’Artagnan’s chest and stomach, touching and stroking him, enjoying the feel of taut, lean muscle under his fingertips. 

D’Artagnan moaned into Aramis’ mouth and mirrored his touches, letting his hands play over the other man’s upper body. He ran his fingers through the hair on his chest, tugging gently and was rewarded with a low moan of pleasure from Aramis that went straight to his cock. When he let his thumbs brush over the man’s nipples, he got yet another moan and Aramis pushing his chest forward as if seeking more contact.

“Yeah, he loves that,” Porthos whispered as he took Aramis firmly by the hip and began to rub himself against him. Watching the boy touching his lover so reverently was doing wicked things to Porthos’ insides, making him want to both fuck Aramis thoroughly and wrap them both up in his arms and hold them close and safe at the same time. The dichotomy made his heart ache in a way that felt wonderful and terrible at once.

Behind D’Artagnan, Athos was biting his lip to keep from commenting along with Porthos, as well as to keep from sinking his teeth into his young lover’s shoulder and possibly distracting him from what he was doing with Aramis. The sight of them, however, was just as profound for Athos as it was for Porthos and he gripped D’Artagnan’s hip the same way Porthos held Aramis’ and began to press against him.

Without breaking their kiss, D’Artagnan rolled Aramis’ nipples between his fingers and thumbs. He did not have a word for the sound that came from Aramis at that but he swallowed it down and kissed him harder as he continued to roll his nipples, intent on bringing Aramis as much pleasure as he possibly could. 

Aramis gasped and moaned into D’Artagnan’s mouth, thrusting his tongue in deeply as his lover tormented him so sweetly. The soft, gentle way D’Artagnan was touching him was making him long for more. He strained against Porthos’ grip on his hips, his body instinctively seeking out the friction it would need to find release. He felt Porthos grip him harder, holding him back and whimpered into D’Artagnan’s mouth. 

“Shhh,” D’Artagnan said, pulling back. He stroked Aramis’ face, trying to calm him. He could see the desperation in his eyes and was stunned to realize that he was the cause of it. Leaning forward, he kissed Aramis again and let his hands move lower, down from his chest to his stomach. He let his fingers trail along the muscles there, enjoying the way they seemed to jump under his hand before moving lower still.

He spent some little time just carding his fingers through the thick patch of hair there, enjoying the feel of it. Then he wrapped his hand around Aramis’ shaft and began to stroke. He felt Aramis try to buck his hips but it was clear that Porthos was holding him in place, allowing him to take only what D’Artagnan wanted to give him rather than demanding more from him. D’Artagnan did not make him wait, though. He stroked Aramis firmly, moving his hand from root to tip. When he brushed his thumb over the head of his cock, smearing the liquid that had pooled there, he was rewarded with an almost guttural cry from Aramis and another aborted attempt to thrust. 

“Aramis… touch me,” D’Artagnan pled, his own body responding to Aramis’ reactions to him. 

Aramis reached for him at once, his hands ghosting down D’Artagnan’s chest and stomach, stroking and caressing as he went. Knowing how close he was himself, Aramis wasted no time in taking D’Artagnan in hand. He mimicked the younger man’s motions on him, stroking him fully and thumbing the head of his cock as he shook and moaned at his touch. 

Athos felt mesmerized by the sight of Aramis and D’Artagnan pleasuring each other with obvious abandon while he and Porthos looked on and rutted against them chasing their own pleasure. He glanced across them at Porthos and saw the same look of awe reflected back at him as he held Aramis’ hips still and ground against him.

For their parts, it was almost as if Aramis and D’Artagnan were not even aware of the two men rutting and grinding against them as they kissed and touched and stroked each other to completion. Aramis was shaking as D’Artagnan continued to work him and when he brought his free hand back up to gently roll his nipple once more, Aramis could hold back no longer. 

“D’Artagnan,” he gasped breathlessly as he began to spend. Even as Porthos kept him locked in place, D’Artagnan continued to stroke him, drawing out his pleasure as he shook and moaned and lost himself for long moments. 

When he was finally spent, D’Artagnan released him and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. He started to reach for his own straining flesh but Aramis quickly batted him away and took him back in hand. He could feel Porthos laboring behind him and knew the other man would not last much longer. A quick glance at Athos confirmed him to be in much the same state. Aramis turned his full concentration on D’Artagnan then, wanting to make this as perfect for him as possible.

“Oh… Aramis…” D’Artagnan moaned as he felt his release building inside of him. He reached out, pulled Aramis forward and kissed him hard, thrusting his tongue into his mouth, then his whole body seemed to seize up and he began to spend, adding his own fluids to the mess between them.

A throaty groan and a powerful thrust were Aramis’ only warning before Porthos began to spend as well, covering Aramis’ hip and back with his seed. A soft curse signaled Athos’ release as well and D’Artagnan soon found his own backside likewise covered.

For long minutes, the only sound in the room was harsh panting as all four men struggled to regain their breath. None of them had expected the encounter to be so powerful, though perhaps they should have. The scene from the day before had been just that, a scene. This had been something else entirely. This had been the physical expression of everything they felt for each other, all of the love, lust, caring and respect that they had come to feel for one another.


	47. Chapter 47

Part 47

When they had finally forced themselves from the bed, Aramis had sequestered himself in the library. He had needed some time to let recent events run through his mind, allowing him to consider all of the possible ramifications. As a whole, he agreed with Porthos. He thought this change in their dynamic would be good for D’Artagnan, but it was yet another pitfall to be maneuvered around. 

As he thought of D’Artagnan, he remembered his actions, and reactions, where their youngest was concerned and frowned. He knew he was protective of the younger man, probably more so than he should be; he truly had not meant to grow so openly hostile about it – and especially not to Porthos. He knew then that he needed to talk to his lover and clear the air. While last night’s conversation and this morning’s encounter showed that Porthos bore no ill will toward either of them, Aramis knew from his own experience not to simply let things lie.

Mind made up, Aramis went to the main hall in search of Porthos. He found Athos and D’Artagnan there, lounging on the divan, but Porthos was not in sight. “I believe he went to walk the grounds,” Athos offered. “Do you wish us to help you find him?”

“No,” Aramis shook his head. “You are fine where you are. I doubt he has gone far.”

“Try along the pasture fence,” D’Artagnan suggested.

Aramis nodded his thanks and went in search of his wayward lover. He headed toward the pasture as D’Artagnan had suggested. Sure enough, Porthos was leaning against the fence, watching the horses in the field. 

“Everything alright, love?” Aramis asked as he moved up beside him.

“Yeah,” Porthos replied. “Thought I’d give ‘em some privacy, is all. You get your head all sorted out?”

“Hm, yes,” Aramis replied. “Just about. I wanted to speak with you about some things, if you’ve a mind.”

“’Course,” Porthos said. He glanced sideways at his lover, a bit concerned. When Aramis spent long bouts of time thinking alone and then wanted to talk, it didn’t always bode well for the one he was talking to.

“Alright then,” Aramis began as he turned to face Porthos fully. “First, I want to start by telling you that I love you very much. There are times when it feels like I am not a whole person. That I am but half of a man and that the other half of me… is you. I am not whole without you, Porthos, and I _need_ for you to know that.”

Porthos stared at his lover, stunned. Of all the things he had expected, or even feared, to hear Aramis say that was not among them. He knew Aramis loved him. Even with Athos and now the Whelp, Porthos knew that Aramis still loved him, but this sounded like so much more than that. 

“Second,” Aramis continued, though carefully. He could how much his words had thrown the other man and did not want to completely overwhelm him. “I am sorry for how I have acted of late. I did not mean to grow so antagonistic over D’Artagnan. I know I have no need to shield him from either you or Athos. Instincts, however, can be hard to fight.”

“Okay, stop right there,” Porthos interrupted. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to apologize for protectin’ the Whelp. And I don’t give a damn who you were protectin’ him from. You don’t apologize for that. He’d protect you just the same, love. And that… that’s a _comfort_. Don’t go tryin’ to take that comfort away from us.”

Aramis inhaled sharply and nodded, understanding what Porthos meant. It was a comfort to know that if something happened, if one of them somehow stepped out of line, that the others would be there and that they _would_ protect each other.

“I am sorry I did not speak of my growing attraction to him,” Aramis went on. “I should have. It was wrong of me to keep it to myself. I was… well, I was afraid one of you might try to lead him in a direction he was not yet ready to go. I… I guess I was still protecting him, in a way.”

“You were probably right to,” Porthos admitted. “We wouldn’t a meant to, but you know I’m not exactly patient. Neither is Athos. Not for some things. If you’d a said anything, we probably would have started droppin’ hints at the very least. Boy had enough on his mind without us making him think he **had** to let us tumble him into bed.”

“You are a very forgiving man, my love,” Aramis told him. “I do not know what I have done to deserve you but I fervently pray that, whatever it is, I never cease.”

“You think you’ve done somethin’ to deserve **me**?” Porthos gasped in surprise. “Aramis, love, I think you got that backwards. You’re the best damn thing that ever happened to me. You… you mean everything to me. I love Athos and the Whelp, don’t think I don’t, but _you_ … you’re my _life_.”

“Then you understand how very mutual the feeling is,” Aramis replied, his voice strained with emotion he fought to control.

Porthos looked away then, letting his gaze settle back out onto the field and the horses meandering through it. He took a breath and then another before trying to speak again. “I know you love me. I don’t doubt that. But I know how much Athos means to you and I seen you with the boy this morning. I don’t need pretty words, love. Not if… not if you don’t really mean them.”

“You think I am lying to you,” Aramis said, phrasing it as a statement rather than a question. His voice had gone flat, all of the earlier emotion suddenly bled away as if by a mortal wound.

“I think you mean well,” Porthos said. His eyes were still fixed on the field so he missed the look of raw hurt that passed over Aramis’ face before the man could shutter it away. “I think you want it to be true for my sake. But like I said, I know how much you love Athos and the boy.”

The silence stretched on for long minutes as Aramis tried to think of something to say. There was little point in arguing if Porthos thought him lying, though. “Very well then,” he said at last. “I am sorry for intruding on your morning contemplation. I shall leave you in peace.” With that, he spun on his heels and headed back toward the house. He dimly heard Porthos call out for him but the rushing in his ears all but drowned it out. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Athos and D’Artagnan startled when they heard the back door slam shut. They spared each other a brief glance then they were up and moving toward the kitchen and whichever of their brothers was so obviously in distress. They were surprised to find Aramis leaning against the kitchen table braced on his hands.

“What happened?” Athos asked as he came up beside him and wrapped a supporting arm around his waist. 

“Nothing,” Aramis ground out, his jaw clenched so tight he thought his teeth might crack.

Knowing it was unlikely they would get anything from Aramis as upset as he was, D’Artagnan gave Athos’ shoulder a brief squeeze and headed outside to find Porthos. He was not worried for his well-being. If anything had been wrong with him, Aramis would have said so at once. But it was clear that something had occurred between the pair.

He found him where he expected to, leaning along the pasture fence watching the horses. He approached him slowly, deliberately making his tread heavy enough to be heard so as not to startle him. While Porthos gave no outward sign of acknowledgement, the tensing and then relaxing of his shoulders let D’Artagnan know that he had been both heard and recognized and that it was safe for him to draw near.

“What happened?” he asked, mimicking Athos’ question to Aramis.

“Aramis make it back inside?” Porthos asked, ignoring D’Artagnan’s question.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Athos is with him. I doubt he’ll tell him anything, though. You know how Aramis gets when he’s upset. The more he’s hurt, the quieter he gets.”

Porthos grunted in reply. He had not meant to hurt Aramis. He had only been speaking the truth as he saw it. There was no way Aramis could love him that much. That level of love… of devotion… should be reserved for Athos. Not him. He did not deserve something so precious, not after what he had done. 

“Well, whatever you said to him, I’m sure he’ll get over it,” D’Artagnan said when Porthos failed to speak. “You know Aramis never stays mad at any of us for long. No matter how much we hurt him. And Athos… well… he’s good at taking a man’s mind off his troubles.”

“You don’t fight fair, do you, Whelp,” Porthos laughed darkly.

“My brothers have taught me not to,” he replied.

“I don’t deserve him,” Porthos said softly almost as if talking to himself. “What he says he feels for me… I don’t deserve that kind of devotion.”

“I cannot tell you what you do and do not deserve where Aramis’ feelings are concerned,” D’Artagnan said after a moment. “Only you can decide that. But do not let your fear deprive you of something precious. Do not let it deprive _Aramis_.”

“He told me he felt like I was his other half,” Porthos admitted. He frowned then and his voice grew strained. “I told him I didn’t believe him. That I thought he just wanted it to be true for my sake.”

D’Artagnan groaned and hung his head. “You, my friend, are an idiot,” he said shaking his head. 

“So it would seem,” Porthos agreed.

“Why would you say such a thing to him?” D’Artagnan asked, unable to help himself. He simply could not understand how Porthos could have done that.

“Because I know how much he loves Athos… and you,” Porthos replied. “How can I be the other half of his soul when he loves you both so much?”

“My God, you really are an idiot,” D’Artagnan said flatly. “Yes, he loves us. And yes, he loves us a very great deal. Just as we love him. And you, I might add. But you _are_ the other half of his soul, Porthos. Even I can see that. And before you even say it, so can Athos. Just like you and I can both see that for Athos, Aramis is the other half of his.”

“Not exactly fair, is it?” Porthos mused.

“No,” D’Artagnan agreed. “But life rarely is. And in truth, I would not change what I have for anything, not even Athos’ whole and undivided affection. To do so would be to deny that affection to my brothers, and that is something I shall never do.”

“I’m in for a lot of groveling, aren’t I?” Porthos asked, finally willing to admit that he might have been wrong in saying what he did to Aramis.

“When he deigns to actually speak to you again? Yes,” D’Artagnan replied. 

When Porthos re-entered the house it was to find Athos alone in the kitchen. He was drinking a cup of tea obviously waiting for either him or D’Artagnan to return. “Are you alright?” Athos asked when Porthos eyed him warily. It was quite clear that he did not know what, if anything, Aramis might have confided in him so was unsure of his likely reception.

“Be better once I talk to Aramis,” he admitted. 

“He did not tell me what you quarreled about,” Athos assured him. “He refused to tell me anything at all actually, so you have no need to look so fearful. Though I must wonder now what it was if the thought of me knowing can cause you such concern.”

“Ask the Whelp,” Porthos said then thought better of it. “Or better yet, don’t. I… I made a mistake. Again. Which I will do my best to fix if Aramis will allow me to.”

“He will always allow you to,” Athos told him. “There is no offense he will not forgive **you** , brother. You must know that by now.” 

“I do,” Porthos nodded. “Though whether I deserve such leniency is another matter.”

“Would that not be for Aramis to decide?”

“Even if it hurts him?” Porthos protested. “Even if I hurt him?”

“We have hurt one another before. I fear we shall do so again, though perhaps with less frequency or at least less recklessness.”

“I called him a liar, Athos,” Porthos told him, tired of listening to his brother defend him rather than giving him the chastising he knew he deserved. “I called him a liar about his feelings for me. Still think he should just up and forgive me?”

“No,” Athos said succinctly, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Porthos. He slid his chair back from the table and stood. “But that is for Aramis to decide.”

He knew there was more to the story than he was hearing but did not press. Perhaps D’Artagnan would be able to shed some light on things for him later. Without another word, Athos walked out the back door, leaving Porthos alone in the room.

Porthos watched the door swing shut behind Athos and scrubbed a hand over his face roughly. He knew the other man was not really angry with him but he also knew there would be no real peace between them – between any of them – until he could make peace with Aramis. For Aramis seemed to be the glue that held them inexplicably together and any wound to him was felt by them all.

He found his wayward lover right where he expected to, ensconced in the library with a book in his lap. He stopped in the doorway and knocked lightly, refusing to force his presence on Aramis. If his lover was still too angry to be in the same room with him then Porthos would wait him out, difficult as that might be.

“Did you need something?” Aramis asked when he looked up and saw Porthos standing in the doorway. He knew his voice had come out much colder than he had intended it to, as evidenced by the wince Porthos was unable to completely hide.

“Just thought I’d see if you’d mind some company,” he offered. “I’d like to talk with you, if you’ve a mind to. But I’ll understand if you don’t.”

Aramis closed the book he had been pretending to read and set it on the side table. “You might as well come in,” he said huffed out an annoyed breath. “I’m sorry. I do not mean to be difficult.”

“You’re not. And it’s not like I don’t deserve it anyway.”

“Yes, well, that is irrelevant,” Aramis said dismissively.

“Irrelevant?” Porthos repeated. He entered the room then and closed the door behind him. “How exactly is my bein’ an ass irrelevant? I called you a liar. That…”

“Was obviously the only logical conclusion you could have come to,” Aramis broke in, refusing to allow Porthos to speak. “I know there is little I can do to change that. My promiscuity and what you must perceive as utter faithlessness in matters of the heart could lead you to no other conclusion. I am sorry, dear Porthos, but you have always known I was a whore.”

Porthos was across the room before Aramis had even finished speaking. He dropped to his knees in front of the other man and took his hands in his, clasping them tightly. “Don’t you dare talk like that,” he spat angrily. “You’re no whore, Aramis. Just because you love easy and you show that love openly, that doesn’t make you a whore.”

“And yet you do not believe me when I say…”

“I do,” Porthos cut in. “I just don’t think I deserve it.”

“You’re an idiot,” Aramis told him, cuffing him softly on the side of the head.

“So I’ve been told,” Porthos replied. “But how could I… after everything? And Athos… he loves you so much… you’re everything to him… you’re _his_ other half. Just don’t seem right that… that he doesn’t get that in return.”

“I love Athos, I do,” Aramis told him. “To the point where I am not sure I could survive without him. But in the end, he is not you. And without you, dear one, I would not even bother to try.”

“Aramis, you can’t say that,” Porthos moaned. “We’re bloody Musketeers. We’re soldiers. A sword or a musket ball could find any one of us. You can’t just… just curl up and die if I do.”

“Would you care to make a wager on that?” Aramis replied smoothly. 

“And what of Athos and the boy? Would you leave them? Simply abandon them to their fate?”

“They would have each other to see them through,” Aramis reasoned, though he sounded much less sure of himself. 

“But they wouldn’t have you,” Porthos said. “Would you truly make Athos suffer the same fate? Would you make him watch the other half of _his_ soul die?”

Aramis gasped at the raw pain that shot through him at the very thought. He understood now what Porthos was getting at. And he knew, no matter how much he might want to die, that he would never be able to willfully visit such a pain on Athos, and in turn D’Artagnan. 

“Come here, please,” Aramis said tugging on his hands still held within Porthos. The other man obeyed at once and moved to sit beside him on the small bench. As soon as Porthos was next to him, Aramis turned toward him and buried his face in his chest, his arms locking around his waist as if afraid the man might try to escape him.

“Easy, love,” Porthos soothed as he felt Aramis let out a shaky breath against him. He could feel fine tremors run through him sporadically and simply held onto him, letting his presence calm where it could. 

“I do not ever wish to live in a world without you,” Aramis whispered into his chest.

“I know. Neither do I. If that God of yours is merciful, none of us will have to for more than a few moments,” Porthos told him. “But if He’s not. If He sees fit to take me and make you stay, then you have to stay. For Athos and the boy if nothing else.”

“I will,” Aramis promised him. “Though I fear it will break me utterly. I will do it for them and for you, because you have asked it of me and there is nothing that I would deny you if it is in my power to give it.”

“I love you, Aramis,” Porthos told him then. “More than anyone or anything in this whole entire world. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you earlier. I’m sorry I **couldn’t** believe you earlier. But I believe you now and I’ll never doubt you again, love.”


	48. Chapter 48

Part 48

“I see you have worked your magic with Porthos yet again,” Athos told D’Artagnan as he joined him outside. He hoped that whatever he had said to the man was enough to get through to him. He was not pleased with what Porthos had told him about his disagreement with Aramis but he would allow them to attempt to work it out on their own. 

D’Artagnan shrugged. He was still a bit concerned for the pair. He knew Porthos was trying but he had an enormous amount of guilt that was working against him, making him feel completely unworthy of the level of devotion that Aramis bestowed upon him almost effortlessly. What the other man failed to realize was that this was not a new development. Aramis had _always_ been devoted to Porthos. The change in their relationship made no difference in that regard.

“They will be alright,” Athos said as he moved to stand behind D’Artagnan and slide his arms around the man’s waist. He could tell his lover was worried and sought to put his mind at ease. “If they cannot find their way in this then we will help them. However, I do not think we will need to. As Porthos has said, you have a way with saying just what a man needs to hear when he needs to hear it.”

“You give me too much credit,” D’Artagnan said as he leaned back into Athos’ chest. He held onto the arms encircling his waist and closed his eyes. 

“We do not give you credit enough,” Athos whispered into his ear. He nipped the other man’s ear softly, taking it into his mouth and sucking gently, before releasing it to begin kissing down the side of his neck. 

D’Artagnan moaned at the feeling of Athos’ lips on his skin. He felt a shudder run through him as his ear was suckled and gasped when those same lips moved to his neck. He let his head fall back against Athos’ shoulder heavily, baring his neck to the man even more and was gratified when he took full advantage, kissing and sucking until the entire side of D’Artagnan’s neck was covered in dark red marks.

“Do you mean to take me here?” D’Artagnan husked as Athos continued his oral assault on his lover. He was hard in his breeches and pulled him taut against him, making sure he could feel exactly what he was doing to him.

“Do not tempt me,” Athos growled into his ear. “You have no idea how much the idea of dropping to my knees and pleasuring you right here in the open… where anyone might see us… what it does to me.”

“You do not wish to take me?” D’Artagnan asked. He knew the answer already, Athos had said as much, but he wanted to make sure.

“I wish… I… that is…”

“Tell me,” D’Artagnan said, making his voice calm and firm. He was rewarded by a low moan from behind him as he lover ground against him.

“I wish to please you…” Athos whispered. “I wish… to **serve** you.”

“To **serve** me?” D’Artagnan repeated, thrown for a moment. “As… as Aramis did?”

“If that is how you would have me do it,” Athos replied, glad that D’Artagnan seemed to understand the heart of what he was saying.

“I see,” D’Artagnan replied. “Then perhaps we should return to the house and discuss this a bit further.”

Athos tensed, unsure if D’Artagnan’s suggestion was a good idea or not. It was one thing to lose himself in the heat of the moment. He was not at all sure he could do this as Aramis did, with discussions and negotiations all worked out ahead of time.

“It is alright, love,” D’Artagnan assured him, well aware of how still Athos had gone behind him. “I only want to make sure that I do nothing that you will not like. We have not discussed this at all and I would know those things that I should avoid. That is all.”

“You are too good to me,” Athos huffed. “But I can understand your concerns. I am not sure how much I will be able to actually speak of this, but I shall do my best.”

“That is all I will ever ask of you.”

They returned to the house and the privacy of their shared room. D’Artagnan did not think Athos would appreciate an audience for this discussion, even if only his brothers. That thought gave him pause. Aramis had enjoyed having an audience for their encounter. He was not sure if Athos would welcome such a thing. If not, he would have to be even more careful not to inadvertently make a misstep.

They sat side by side on their bed and D’Artagnan took Athos’ hand in his. “I have no objection if this is something that you desire, but I would know why first. Can you tell me what has brought this on?”

“I…” Athos faltered then cleared his throat and tried again. “You know that, as a rule, I do not prefer a dominant role. Watching Aramis with you… seeing how it affected him… I found myself curious as to whether I would find bliss in such things as well.”

“So you have not done this before?”

“No,” Athos replied dryly. “In truth, the thought never even occurred to me until watching you and Aramis together.”

“Alright,” D’Artagnan replied. “I have but a few more questions. First, is there a particular way you would prefer to **serve**? What Aramis and I did was my fantasy. Do you have one you would like to explore?”

“I would… I would like for you to… to decide,” Athos managed, blushing a bit at the words. “I… do not wish to know… I want simply to be… to be for your use.”

“Alright,” D’Artagnan said quickly. He could see that Athos was growing a bit distressed and wanted to reassure him that what he wanted was not something that he would object to in any way. “I know how hard speaking of this is for you. I only have two more questions for you.”

“Go ahead,” Athos said, wanting to get it over with.

“What do I need to avoid? What things do I need to _not_ do or say? I have no wish to cause you harm, especially in this.”

“I-I don’t really know,” Athos admitted. “I have never done anything even close to this. I…”

“That makes things a bit more difficult,” D’Artagnan admitted. “Not impossible, but we must be more mindful. I know some few things you do not care for already – a rough penetration of your mouth, for example. You will allow me time to think on this.”

“Of course,” Athos agreed at once. He should have known that D’Artagnan would place his safety, his well-being, above all else.

“My final question is whether or not you wish the others present,” D’Artagnan said. 

“Would you not prefer it?” Athos countered.

“Yes,” D’Artagnan replied honestly. “For several reasons, not the least of which is that I am rather new to this and do not fully trust myself, especially since you do not as yet know your own limits. With them there, there is less chance of a misstep on my part. Also, well, I do find the knowledge that they are watching me… watching us… rather arousing. 

“But none of that matters if you will not be comfortable with them there,” D’Artagnan told him resolutely. “If you would have this be just the two of us, then that is what it shall be.”

“In all honesty, I think I would find it quite humiliating to be put on my knees and used in front of my brothers,” Athos said, his eyes glued to a spot on the floor between his boots even as he gripped D’Artagnan’s hand tighter.

“Then they shall not be there.”

“Even if that is what I want?” 

The question was asked so softly that, for a moment, D’Artagnan actually thought it was simply his own mind whispering to him. When he realized that Athos had actually asked the question, he inhaled sharply.

Reaching out, D’Artagnan took Athos by the chin and turned his face toward him so that the man had no choice but to look at him. “Is that what you want? Does that… the humiliation… is that the part of the act that arouses you?”

“Yes,” Athos replied. “Part of it anyway. I do genuinely desire to please you… to serve you. But…”

“There is no ‘but’,” D’Artagnan told him. “I do not begrudge you your desires. As you do not begrudge me mine, nor Aramis and Porthos theirs.”

“Yet I know that one of the things you despaired of with Aramis was the thought that you would be debasing him.”

“That is true,” D’Artagnan nodded. “But you wish this. You, like Aramis, go to your knees willingly. I am not forcing you there and you are free to rise at whatever time _you_ wish. Moreover, unlike Aramis at the time of our encounter, you are my lover. I know your heart and you know mine.”

Athos smiled and felt some of his tension bleed away. His lover understood him and did not think him wrong or sick for his desires. It was more of a relief than he had thought it would be. Leaning forward, he kissed the other man softly then drew back.

“It seems I have one last question for you after all,” D’Artagnan said as he pulled Athos into his arms and held him. An idea had occurred to him at Athos’ admission and he was curious to see if his lover would consider it.

“Ask me whatever you wish, love.”

“You have said you are not averse to Aramis and Porthos observing. Would you be averse to Aramis doing more than simply watching?” 

Athos went completely still in D’Artagnan’s arms, his breath seizing in his chest at the thought of Aramis _assisting_ D’Artagnan in his debasement. For a moment, he could not even breathe as images flashed through his mind of all of the ways that his inventive young lover could make that play out.

“Athos?” D’Artagnan queried worriedly when he failed to say anything.

“What… what did you… have in mind?” Athos managed to ask, finally able to take a breath again.

“We do not have to,” D’Artagnan told him, concerned he had pushed too far. “It was only a passing thought.”

“No,” Athos told him quickly. “I want to. I think I want to. I…”

“I thought of having him prepare you for me,” D’Artagnan said, understanding that Athos needed to know more before he could say one way or the other. 

“Prepare me?” Athos frowned.

“With his mouth,” D’Artagnan supplied wickedly.

“Oh God,” Athos moaned feeling desire shoot through him like a musket ball. “What… what would I be… be doing?”

“Whatever I told you to,” D’Artagnan replied, putting the barest hint of harshness in his voice. His own arousal was growing rapidly. The feeling of Athos practically panting in his arms was only fanning the fire inside of him. 

“While Porthos watched?” Athos gasped, caught up in the fantasy as well.

“I imagine Aramis would be in for quite the ride when we were finally finished with him,” D’Artagnan mused. “Do you think Porthos would fuck him right there? In front of us? Would he take him hard, making him cry out from the sheer force of it?”

“D’Artagnan, please,” Athos whimpered as he surged up and captured his lover’s mouth in a hard kiss. His entire body felt like it was on fire and he desperately needed the other man to quench it. He felt one of the younger man’s hands cradle his head then it was winding in his hair and pulling his head back hard.

“Strip for me,” D’Artagnan told him, his lips red and swollen from Athos’ kisses, his face flushed with desire and his eyes burning with want.

As soon as D’Artagnan released his hold on him, Athos scrambled from the bed and began to undress. He glanced at the bed as he did so and noticed that the other man had only removed his boots and unlaced his breeches but had not bothered to remove any of his clothing. Athos felt himself flush at the hot bolt of lust that knowledge sent spiking through him then he was naked and turning back toward the bed to stand before his lover.

D’Artagnan looked him up and down appraisingly, noting how Athos seemed both embarrassed and aroused by the scrutiny. “Beautiful,” he said after long moments of simply drinking in the sight of the other man, naked and aroused for him.

Athos felt another surge of lust at D’Artagnan’s praise. For a moment, he thought he could understand why Aramis preened so, for if it made D’Artagnan look at him like this then Athos might be willing to do so himself. 

“You have no idea how badly I want to fuck you right now,” D’Artagnan said. He had moved back on the bed so that he was sitting against the wall with his legs spread. He let his hand slide inside his unlaced breeches and massaged the growing bulge there, making sure Athos could see how effected he was. 

“I am yours,” Athos said, licking his lips nervously. He had only done that once with Aramis but he would not deny D’Artagnan something he so clearly desired.

“I know,” D’Artagnan replied. “But I think I shall wait. I find myself intrigued by the idea of Aramis’ clever mouth opening you up for me, preparing your body to take my cock for the first time. Does the thought appeal to you as well, lover?”

“Yes,” Athos groaned as he fisted his hands to keep from touching himself. 

“Have you felt his mouth there already?” D’Artagnan asked, curious. “Or are you simply imagining what it will feel like for him to kiss you in so forbidden a place?”

“I do not… I have never…. No one,” Athos stammered. He had never even thought of having someone put their mouth on him there. Now that D’Artagnan had said it, though, he could hardly think past the want of it.

“Shhh… easy,” D’Artagnan soothed then patted the bed between his legs. “Come here and sit with me.”

Athos obeyed at once, moving to sit between D’Artagnan’s splayed legs. As soon as he was seated, he found himself maneuvered around until he was lying against his lover’s chest with the younger man’s arms wrapped around him. 

“Mmm… I like you like this,” D’Artagnan murmured in his ear as he began to stroke his chest and stomach. “All naked and spread out for me, just aching for me to play with you.”

“Y-y-you have de-definitely been spend-spending too much time with Ar-amis of late,” Athos moaned as D’Artagnan touched his body as he would, blatantly ignoring his rampant erection. “He has tur-turned my sweet Gascon in-in-into a fiend.”

“Good thing you enjoy it so much,” D’Artagnan whispered into his ear then nipped it. “And just think how much worse I will be when I have you on your knees for me.”

Athos could not stop himself from thrusting up, his body blindly seeking friction he knew he would not be granted. He remembered well the way D’Artagnan had used his words to drive Aramis’ lust and knew his lover would likely redouble his efforts where he was concerned. 

“Will you my perfect little slut, Athos? Will you whine and beg to please me as Aramis did?” D’Artagnan taunted watching as Athos seemed to become more and more aroused the more he spoke, his cock turning a dark red as fluid beaded at the tip and ran down the side to pool on his belly. 

“Yes,” Athos gasped as he fisted his hands into the bedding on either side of D’Artagnan’s legs. His cock ached and he wanted so very badly to touch it but knew that his lover did not want him to. “Please… I will do anything. I will show you how good… how **obedient** I can be.”

“Obedient?” D’Artagnan repeated. He took in Athos’ overall state once more – his racing heart, panting breaths, hard and ruddy cock – and wondered just how much he could command of his lover. “Shall we put that to a test?”

“Anything,” Athos told him the sincerity in his voice plain to hear even amidst the overwhelming arousal.

“You will not touch yourself, nor will I – at least not any more than I am doing now,” D’Artagnan told him. “You will do nothing more than listen to the sound of my voice and, from that alone, you will spend.”

“I do not know if I can,” Athos admitted, hating that he might not be able to fulfill his lover’s wishes.

“You can because I say you can,” D’Artagnan told him and began stroking his chest once more, letting his fingertips ghost over nipples. “Now close your eyes. You are my going to be my good little slut. My _perfect_ slut. You already make me so hard. Can you feel me in my breeches? Can you feel my cock pressing into you from behind? 

“You have no idea how tempted I am to simply bend you over in this bed and rut you until I’m sated… until you can barely move and my spend runs down your legs.” D’Artagnan ground his hips forward then, pushing his covered erection into Athos’ backside. The resultant moan it pulled from his lover went straight to his cock and he had to pull back before he forgot himself.

“You could tempt a fucking saint,” D’Artagnan whispered then nipped his ear once sharply. “And I, dear Athos, am no saint. Your cock is so hard. It must ache so. Do you want me to touch it? Do you want to feel my hand on you, stroking you again and again until you have no choice but to spend?”

“No,” Athos ground out shaking his head for good measure. 

“Hmmm… and why is that?”

“It… it is not what you wish,” Athos replied. “So it is not what I wish. Your… your slut wishes only your pleasure, not his own.”

“Oh, you are so good to me, so perfect for me. And when we do this with Aramis and Porthos there, with Aramis naked and on his knees _beside_ you, will you be my perfect little slut then, as well?”

“Yes,” Athos rasped hoarsely. He could feel his bollocks starting to tighten as the picture took shape in his mind – the picture of both of them on their knees for D’Artagnan’s pleasure.

“And when that wicked, wicked mouth of his is fucking the sounds from your hole? When your face burns with shame at the thought of me hearing those sounds… of **Porthos** hearing those sounds… will you still _beg_ to be my plaything?”

In the blink of an eye, Athos went from nearing the edge to toppling over it. With a roar, he thrust up hard at nothing and began to spend, coating his stomach and chest with long ropes of fluid. He felt a hand reach down and caress his bollocks and shouted again as his body nearly convulsed in an effort to spend even harder. 

Finally, after what felt like hours, Athos began to come back to himself. The first thing he noticed was D’Artagnan cooing gently in his ear, telling him how good and beautiful and **obedient** he was. Unclenching his hands from the bed linens, he brought them to the arms D’Artagnan had wrapped around him and squeezed.

“Back with me now?” D’Artagnan asked the grin in his voice all too evident.

“Yes,” Athos croaked his voice raw. “That was…”

“Amazing,” D’Artagnan supplied. “You are amazing and I love you so very much.”

“I love you, too,” Athos replied. He shifted on the bed a bit and felt something poke him in the back. He realized then that D’Artagnan had yet to find his own release. He started to turn around but his lover stopped him.

“It will keep,” D’Artagnan told him. 

“I should have seen to you first,” Athos argued. “I meant to…”

“You meant to serve me, which is what you did. I wanted your control and you gave it to me. You allowed me to control what you did and what you felt. You severed me beautifully, love.”

Athos absorbed the praise like a dying plant did water. He was so unused to such things that he did not know how to react. He could see now why Aramis did this, what he got from it. “What would you have me do?” he asked after a moment, unsure what D’Artagnan wanted of him now.

“I would have you lie here and let me clean you up a bit. Then, if you’ve a mind to, I would have you pleasure me in whatever way you wish to.”

Athos agreed and D’Artagnan quickly set about cleaning them both up. He shed his clothes before rejoining Athos on the bed, this time stretching out to lie beside him. “What do you want, love? You may have me in any way you wish.”

“I want to take you in my mouth,” Athos said.

“Alright,” D’Artagnan nodded as he rose up and moved forward to give Athos room. “But I doubt I will last long at all.”

“That does not matter,” Athos told him as he gripped him by the base and smiled up at him. “I simply want to feel you in my mouth and know that I carry some small part of you inside of me.”

D’Artagnan had to close his eyes at Athos’ words, his heart clenching. They sprang open again at the first touch of that sinful mouth upon his cock. Athos wasted no time in taking him in, intent on bringing him off rather than teasing. D’Artagnan let his hands come down to rest on Athos’ head and soon had them both tangled in his hair as he fought the urge to thrust. 

Luckily, he did not have to fight for long as Athos’ hot mouth had him spending with a shout so quickly he did not even have time to warn the man. Athos, however, did not seem to mind and took D’Artagnan as deeply as he could, swallowing around him as he pulsed down his throat.

When it was over and Athos finally drew back, both men were panting. D’Artagnan leaned down and kissed him hard, moaning at the taste of himself in Athos’ mouth. By the time they broke the kiss, they were lying flat on the bed with D’Artagnan resting on top of Athos. They stayed like that a while longer, enjoying the calm and the closeness, before rising to check on their brothers once more.


	49. Chapter 49

Part 49

Aramis lay awake in the pre-dawn hours of the morning, unable to sleep. While he and Porthos had talked out their disagreement from the previous day, he still found himself plagued by doubts. He had a feeling there was more to Porthos’ reluctance to believe his declaration than simply his lingering guilt. He also did not believe that for one moment Porthos considered himself as somehow less worthy of a man than Athos. For one thing, he and Porthos had been friends and companions long before Athos joined them. If anything, Athos should be much more prone to such insecurities, especially considering how overwhelmingly tactile he and Porthos tended to be with one another.

“What’s wrong?” Porthos asked groggily. He could tell Aramis had been awake for a while and was growing concerned. 

“Just… thoughts,” Aramis replied as he snuggled down into Porthos’ warm embrace. 

“Talk to me, love,” Porthos said softly, coming more awake. “Tell me what I can do to help.”

“You are doing it,” Aramis assured him. 

“Obviously not enough or you would not be lying awake in our bed before the sun is even up,” Porthos replied.

Aramis sighed and fell silent for long minutes as he tried to get his thoughts in some semblance of order before he spoke. “I am worried,” he finally admitted. “I understand where some of your doubt about my feelings for you came from. I truly do and I do not blame you. Nevertheless, I also believe there must be more to it than that. It cannot simply be your lingering guilt, but I am unsure what it could be that would make you doubt me so.”

“Aramis, no,” Porthos said, hugging him tight. “I do not doubt you. I swear I do not.”

“But you did,” Aramis countered, though there was no heat in his voice. “And I must ask myself just how much of this I have brought on by my own actions. By allowing my relationship with D’Artagnan to progress, have I somehow undermined that which is between you and I?”

“No,” Porthos argued stubbornly. “Any worries I have… any jealousy I feel… those are my fault, not yours. I knew what was happening with the Whelp and I held my tongue. I could have said something at any time, but I chose to keep quiet. I did that, because I trust you and I love you and I would just as soon cut my own arm off than deny you anything.

“Yeah, I’m a little worried about this thing with you and D’Artagnan,” Porthos forced himself to be honest. “And it’s for most of the same reasons you were worried about him and Athos. He’s young and beautiful and fulfills a need in you that I simply cannot. But I _know_ how much you love me. You told me and I _believe_ you.”

“There is no need that D’Artagnan fulfills that you cannot,” Aramis argued.

“Aramis, love, you need someone to take care of. It’s part of who you are. It’s why you make such a good surgeon. And the Whelp, he fulfills that need better than me or Athos will ever be able to.”

“I do not mean to make you feel your place by my side is ever in jeopardy,” Aramis said guiltily.

“I don’t,” Porthos told him. “I have some worries but none of them are about you and me. Not really. I mean, I can’t always help it when those insecurities crop up but I know they are baseless.”

“Then what do you worry for, if not for you and I?” Aramis asked.

“I worry about the boy, for one,” Porthos explained. “He still worries about overstepping himself. The only difference this time is in which of us he worries about overstepping himself with. The thought of that… of him being afraid for his place here… like he isn’t as essential to the lot of us as **air** … that makes me want to go out and find whoever did this to him and leave their pieces scattered all over the soddin’ grounds.”

“You are not alone in that regard,” Aramis told him. He had gripped onto Porthos tightly as he had spoken and had to force himself to ease his grip and relax once more. “Though I doubt our bloody retribution would do D’Artagnan much good.”

“Heh, probably not,” Porthos admitted. “Doesn’t mean we wouldn’t enjoy it, though. I bet Athos would be more than willing to get his hands dirty.”

“I have no doubt as to the lengths Athos would be willing to go to in order to protect our youngest,” Aramis said. “Or avenge him.”

“You don’t sound as upset about that as I would have expected,” Porthos said.

“Athos loves the boy dearly and D’Artagnan returns that love whole-heartedly,” Aramis explained. “I believe I would have a much more difficult time dealing with it Athos were not so willing to defend him.”

“No more worries about the boy taking your place in Athos’ heart then?” Porthos pressed hopefully.

“No. At least no more so than you have about such things,” Aramis replied wryly. “I do worry, though.”

“About what?”

“About pushing the lad into something he is not as ready for as he thinks he is. Or thinks he should be.”

“We’ll be careful,” Porthos promised. “We’ll keep an eye on him and if it looks like he’s uncomfortable or getting overwhelmed, we’ll say something.”

“And when we fight?” Aramis asked. “Because you know it is inevitable. We are all of us stubborn men and we sometimes lose sight of what is truly important. While the three of us have been together long enough to weather such things without overly worrying for our continued future, D’Artagnan has not. He is still finding his way in this, as evidenced by his continued worries of going too far or asking for too much.”

“When that happens, because we both know it will, then know that whichever of us are not at odds will keep a sharp eye on the lad and make sure he knows that his place is in no danger simply because tempers happened to run hot.”

“You are as wise as ever, my love,” Aramis said, letting Porthos’ words do what he intended and soothe the worst of his fears.

“I doubt that,” Porthos laughed. “But you need not worry so much. Or at least know that you are not the only one concerned for such things. This is my family, too, and I will fight for it with all that I am.”

“As D’Artagnan told me just recently, you will not fight alone, brother.”

They spent the rest of the hours before sunrise lying together and talking of less serious things. It felt nice to simply be together without worry or fear, to know that the rest of their family was sleeping safely just down the hall from them. It afforded a sense of peace that neither man was accustomed to.

“You should probably speak with Athos,” Porthos said when the sun finally began to peak over the horizon and they began to get up and dress for the day. “Make sure he does not have any concerns he is failing to mention.”

“That would be just like him,” Aramis mused. “I will speak with him. I would not have him see this thing between D’Artagnan and me as a threat to what he already has with the lad.”

Porthos hesitated as Aramis’ words sank in. “I had not thought of that,” he said. “Not that I think you have much to worry about. Athos has seemed quite keen on the idea so far.”

“Yes,” Aramis nodded. “But the idea of something is oftentimes quite different than the reality. I would like to make sure that the reality of this situation does not become something Athos has cause to regret.”

“Alright,” Porthos said then thought for a moment. “After breakfast, why don’t you and Athos take a ride along the trails? Give your horses a bit of exercise while you talk. I’ll keep the Whelp busy while you’re gone.”

“Do try not to traumatize him,” Aramis teased.

“I’ll try, but I make no promises.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“Should I be worried?” D’Artagnan asked as Athos and Aramis headed toward the stables together. 

“Nah,” Porthos said coming up beside him and throwing a large arm around his shoulders. “Aramis just wanted to talk with him for a mite.”

“Without me near,” D’Artagnan pointed out.

“Easy, lad,” Porthos said as he pulled him in close to his side. “You know it’s easier for a man to speak when he knows there is no one else to hear save the one he is speaking to.”

“I know,” he nodded. He was trying not to worry but it was hard. This was his family, as Aramis had pointed out. He would always worry about them. He considered bringing up Athos’ desires to Porthos, simply to take his mind off things, but hesitated. He was not at all sure how Porthos might take it and he did not want to risk it without Aramis nearby. 

“You know you can talk to me, lad,” Porthos said, as the other man grew quiet and almost pensive next to him. “I may not be Aramis, but I know how to listen.”

“You do not need to be Aramis for me to trust you completely,” D’Artagnan told him. “There are things on my mind, yes, but I am not yet ready to speak of them.”

“Soon, though? To one of us, at least?” Porthos pressed. “I don’t much like it when you get all worried. Makes me want to go out and find whoever hurt you and… well…”

“No one hurt me, Porthos.”

“That’s not true,” Porthos countered as gently as he could. “Somebody did. They may not still be among the living, but somebody hurt you. Made you think that if you asked for what you wanted that you’d put everything you already had in danger.”

“How do you know it isn’t simply as Aramis said – that losing so many of the things… the people… of my past has made me fearful of losing those few I still have?”

“Oh, I think that’s part of it,” he agreed. “A big part to be sure. But it’s not the whole of it. I’ve seen animals, and men, that have been abused to the point of simply being unable to even protest the abuse. They come to think they deserve it, that they are so fundamentally… inferior… as to merit no better. That I have seen that same look in _your_ eyes, brother, breaks my heart.”

“I do not think I deserve abuse.”

“No, but you do not think you deserve this either,” Porthos said. “You do not think you deserve the love and friendship and _brotherhood_ that we give you gladly.”

“I… It is hard,” D’Artagnan admitted, the admission catching in his throat. “I am trying. For all of you, I am trying, because I know that it hurts you when I… when I doubt.”

“That it does,” Porthos agreed. “And we know you are trying. We see it every day, for we are trying as well. And we shall keep on trying for as long as it takes. This is my family, too, D’Artagnan, and I will fight for it tooth and bloody nail. Just… just know that we **see** your struggle, little brother. We see it and we will help you in any way we can. You just have to let us.”

D’Artagnan fell quiet, too stunned by Porthos’ words to speak for the moment. He had not realized that they could see how much he still struggled with his insecurities. Moreover, he had not expected such steadfast support in his fight against them. Taking a breath, he let it out slowly along with some of his earlier anxiety. 

“Will you stay with me today?” D’Artagnan whispered softly, as if afraid to voice his need too loudly. 

“For as long as you wish me to,” Porthos agreed at once. He had no intention of leaving the boy alone. He had not even before their conversation and he certainly did not now.

They ended up back in the main room, ensconced together on the divan. Porthos had lain back along it and pulled D’Artagnan down to lay between his outstretched legs with his head pillowed on his chest. The boy had flushed darkly but had settled himself as Porthos had desired, allowing him to hold and pet him as he would.

“Do you know what Aramis needed to speak with him about?” D’Artagnan asked after a while. It was preying on his mind regardless of how much he told himself it was not his concern.

“You most likely,” Porthos said understanding the lad’s need to know. He felt him tense in his arms and quickly reassured him. “It’s nothing bad, I promise. Aramis just wants to talk to Athos about you and him… Aramis, that is. He wants to make sure Athos is alright with how things are going.”

“Oh.” 

“And I think he’s a mite worried about you. He’s still afraid we’re pushing you into something you may not be ready for yet. He knows you _want_ to be ready for it… probably think you _should_ be ready for it… but neither of those things mean that you are.”

“I do want this, want him,” D’Artagnan told him. “I want…”

“What?”

“I want all of us together,” he confessed in a rush. “I do not hold myself back from you for a lack of desire.”

“Then why do you?” Porthos was genuinely curious. It was one of the things that bothered him, that the boy wanted Aramis and Athos but did not seem to desire him in such a way. He did not blame him and would never hold it against the lad, but it still stung.

“Because you are all still finding your way in this,” he explained. “You still carry so much guilt from what happened. I have no wish to add to your burden. And, if I am apart, I can… I can keep an eye on things easier – make sure no one finds himself suddenly lost in memories best left forgotten.”

Porthos did not know what to say. The boy held himself apart from him to **protect** him! To protect all of them! To ensure that at least one of them kept his head when their little trysts got overly heated and the three of them could see no further than their own passions. He closed his eyes then and held D’Artagnan to him tightly, savoring the feel of him tucked up safely in his arms. 

“You worry for us too much,” Porthos said when he could find his voice again. “Your wants and needs are as important as ours. That you would ignore them to still shepherd us…”

“As you said, tooth and bloody nail, brother,” was D’Artagnan’s only reply.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Aramis let Athos lead the way along the trail as the other man had ridden them before. They did not speak as they rode, but simply enjoyed each other’s company. Aramis knew they would speak once they reached whatever destination Athos had in mind for them. Until then, he was content to ride and take in the beauty of the forest around them.

When Athos stopped, it was in a small clearing that was ringed by trees. The only way in, unless on foot, was the single trail they had just ridden down. It was idyllic and Aramis found himself bathed in a sense of tranquility he did not often experience.

“It is beautiful,” he told Athos as they dismounted and tethered their horses. 

“I thought you might find it peaceful,” he replied as he took a blanket from the back of his horse and carried it to the center of the clearing. He spread it out then motioned for Aramis to join him as he sat down. 

“Thank you,” Aramis said as he sat down next to him. He leaned forward and pulled Athos into a gentle kiss, letting his actions show how much Athos’ efforts to put him at ease were appreciated. 

When they parted, Athos noted the lingering concern in Aramis’ eyes and took his hands. “Tell me what troubles you, love, and let me help you with it.”

Aramis smiled at him ruefully and squeezed his hands. “I wish to speak to you of D’Artagnan,” he began. “Porthos and I spoke at length of the changes of late but I wished to know your thoughts on them as well.”

“You are worried for me,” Athos surmised. When Aramis gave a short nod, he huffed. “You need not be.”

Deciding to simply state his concerns so that they might address them directly rather than speak in circles, Aramis shook his head. “I have no wish for you to feel threatened by what is between D’Artagnan and I,” he said as plainly as he could. “I know how much he means to you and I would not have you feel that you are… are losing some part of him, especially to me.”

“I do not,” Athos told him. “Nor do I begrudge him the comfort and love you have found with each other. I care for him deeply. I would no more deny that than I would deny my love for you or Porthos. The fact that he cares for you as well both gladdens my heart and eases my mind.”

“Eases your mind?” Aramis repeated. He had an inkling of what Athos meant but he wanted to be sure. 

“We lead dangerous lives,” Athos shrugged. “To know that he has those that love and cherish him aside from me… that would take care of him if something were to happen… that eases my mind a great deal. You have always had Porthos there for you so I never had to worry overmuch if anything should happen to me. D’Artagnan has not been so fortunate.”

“Oh love,” Aramis said as he pulled Athos to him and held him tightly. He did not even want to consider such a thing for to lose Athos would surely break them all but he understood all the same. Had not Porthos said similar things to him just this past night? Making him vow to remember that there were others that loved him and that he must live for them regardless of what his heart might cry out for him to do. 

“I did not mean to upset you,” Athos said, returning Aramis’ embrace equally. He knew such talk upset the man, as it truly would any of them, but some things needed to be spoken of. For his own peace of mind, if nothing else.

“I know,” Aramis rasped. “Porthos… he voiced a similar sentiment where I was concerned just last night. I fear the contemplation of such things a second time is more than I can bear at the moment.”

“Aramis?”

“You have no need to worry,” he said softly, blinking back the tears that stung his eyes and came dangerously close to falling. “I would not abandon you and D’Artagnan to follow him to the grave no matter how much I might long to. I would never willingly cause you such pain, love. So I will pray that God will be merciful to us all and that, when we fall, we fall together.”

“As much as I would have the three of you live,” Athos began, swallowing thickly at the flood emotions welling up inside of him. “I hope your God is merciful, too, for that is a pain I would not wish on any man.”

“We… we must stop this talk, Athos, before I lose all composure,” Aramis lamented. Gripping Athos tighter still, he leaned forward, pushing the man onto his back until he was stretched out over him. 

Athos could see the wildness in Aramis’ eyes and lifted his head enough to bring their lips together in a messy kiss. He hoped the physical contact would help to calm him. He had not meant to upset him so. If he had known that he and Porthos had talked of such things just last night he would never have broached the subject. There were some things that Aramis could deal with in only very small amounts. The thought of losing one of them was one such thing.

Aramis responded to the kiss at once, opening his mouth eagerly and moaning at the first taste of Athos on his tongue. Soon he was pressing Athos down into the blanket as he kissed him passionately, mapping his mouth with his tongue even as he used his body to hold the other man beneath him. 

“I am yours,” Athos gasped when Aramis finally released his mouth only to start mouthing down his neck. “Do with me as you will, love. I am yours.”

“Since I doubt that either of us had the foresight to pack any oil, I will most definitely not be doing as I wish,” Aramis said between sucking bites into Athos’ neck. He spread his legs out around Athos so that he was bracketing the man between his thighs. He could feel Athos’ hardness pressing into his hip and ground his own against the man, wanting him to feel how desperately aroused he was as well.

“Aramis…” Athos panted as he lay beneath him. He turned his head to the side, baring his neck to his lover even more, enjoying the feeling of Aramis controlling their encounter so thoroughly. 

“You… have no idea… how badly… how very badly… I want you right now,” Aramis moaned as he continued his assault on Athos’ neck, determined to leave an outward mark on the man to match the one that he had branded onto Aramis’ very soul.

“You may have me,” Athos told him, “in any way you wish. I am yours. Always and forever, I am yours.”

Aramis froze for a moment then growled as he shoved down against Athos hard enough to cause the man to gasp aloud. He ached to do as Athos was urging, to strip him bare here on the ground and take what was on offer. Porthos’ words, however, still rang in his ears and he knew he could not… they could not… not without the risk of hurting Athos, and that was something that Aramis simply would not allow. No matter how much both of them seemed to crave it.

“We cannot,” Aramis said reluctantly. He saw Athos start to protest and covered his mouth with his hand. “I will not hurt you. Not like this. Not simply for my pleasure. Or even your own. But there are other things that we can do. So many other things.”

“What… whatever you wish,” Athos told him. He knew Aramis was correct and they could not lose their heads so much as to actually do harm to one another, but it was hard to resist the pull of the man when Athos knew what it was Aramis truly desired of him.

Aramis kissed him then, grateful that Athos could see the necessity of displaying some restraint. He leaned down and took his mouth then, kissing him as if he intended to devour him or perhaps crawl inside of him never to emerge again. When he pulled back this time, they were both panting heavily and Athos’ eyes were dark with lust.

“I wish to see you,” Aramis said, rolling off his lover to sit beside him. “Out here, in the open. I wish to see you with the sun shining down on your skin and I wish to hear you cry out my name to the Heavens when I make you spend.”

Athos nodded and sat up then began working on removing his clothes. He glanced at Aramis and saw him watching and smiled shyly. “You, too?” he asked.

“Of course,” Aramis replied and began to undress as well. 

Once they were both naked, they laid back down on the blanket side by side. Their earlier passion had cooled a bit and they were able to take things more slowly, enjoying and savoring the look and feel and taste of each other. 

They ended up using their hands on one another as they lay on their sides together. Aramis carefully catalogued each expression that crossed Athos’ face as he stroked him to completion, the sound of his name on the other man’s lips sending him over the edge as well. When they were finished, they used the blanket to clean themselves then helped each other redress, trading gentle touches as they did so.

They chose to walk back to the house hand in hand, leading the horses, rather than ride. It was nice to be out in the sunshine together and neither man was in any hurry for it to end. While Aramis still had a few concerns about their youngest, he was no longer worried that their changing relationship would somehow end up hurting his other lovers. Now all that remained was to somehow reassure D’Artagnan of that.


	50. Chapter 50

Part 50

By unspoken agreement, they spent the night together again. This time, however, D’Artagnan clambered onto the bed before Athos could and positioned himself against the far wall. He grinned at Athos’ exasperated expression and beckoned him onto the bed next to him. 

“Aramis and I spent the day together,” Athos argued even as he did as D’Artagnan wanted and climbed onto the bed next to him. “I would have thought you might appreciate some time together as well.”

“We are in the same bed,” D’Artagnan reasoned as he drew Athos into his arms. “Besides, Porthos has missed him today as well.”

“Whelp,” Porthos growled softly. “What did I say about putting our needs before your own?”

“That you should expect it by now?” D’Artagnan answered cheekily. He grinned at the bigger man from behind Athos and was rewarded when Porthos threw back his head and laughed. 

“Alright,” Porthos relented and pushed Aramis onto the center of the bed next to Athos. “But only because I’m a selfish bastard.”

It took a few moments of moving about but they were soon all adjusted to their liking. Athos was on his back with D’Artagnan and Aramis curled against either side of him. Porthos, in turn, was wrapped around Aramis, his arm thrown over the man and his large hand gripping Athos’ hip. Reaching out, D’Artagnan covered Porthos’ hand with his own earning a soft gasp of surprise from the man. 

“I trust you were able to allay whatever fears Aramis had?” D’Artagnan finally asked.

“Yes,” Aramis replied with a smile. 

“Good,” D’Artagnan said. He hesitated a moment then decided to forge ahead. “If you are not busy tomorrow, I would speak with you about some things.”

“I am never too busy for you,” Aramis told him then frowned. “Is there something wrong?”

“No,” D’Artagnan quickly assured him. “But it is a matter I would like your thoughts on.”

“Of course,” Aramis nodded.

“Porthos and I can work on my training while you two talk,” Athos suggested. “I need to practice the moves we have worked out and see how much of a difference they make.”

“Sounds good to me,” Porthos agreed, albeit a bit less enthusiastically than he would have liked. 

“Porthos?” Athos queried.

“No worries, Athos,” Porthos told him. He met his eyes and did his best to convey his sincerity. He was doing his best to leave his guilt in the past where it belonged but it was still hard at times. He was grateful for the understanding in Athos’ eyes and smiled his thanks as he burrowed into Aramis’ back even more snuggly than before.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

When Porthos and Athos took their leave to go train, Aramis and D’Artagnan retired to the main hall to talk. Aramis knew this was where the other man normally felt the most at ease. While he did not know for certain, he thought that D’Artagnan might benefit from it nonetheless. 

“You seem anxious, love,” Aramis said as he took the young man’s hand in his. They had situated themselves as usual, on the divan, but had kept some small space between them. 

“I am, though it is none of your doing,” D’Artagnan told him. “I would have your thoughts on something but I am unsure how you will react and it worries me.”

“You think whatever you have to say will upset me? Make me… angry?” Aramis asked. He kept his voice as detached as he could, treating this as he would any other of their talks together. 

“I worry what you might think of me for even considering it,” he admitted. “I know you will not think any differently of him for his desires, but he has been through so much. For me to consider such a thing…”

“Perhaps you should tell me what it is and let me decide for myself,” Aramis suggested gently. “But first, know this; there is nothing you can say that will make me disgusted with you. There is nothing you can say that would make me turn from you.”

D’Artagnan squeezed Aramis’ hand then lifted it and kissed his fingers. “Athos has expressed a desire to experience… that is… he wishes… to **serve** ,” D’Artagnan finally managed. He glanced over at Aramis then, steeling himself for any number of reactions. 

“And you thought this would displease me somehow?” Aramis asked, wanting to understand D’Artagnan’s fears as much as everything else.

“Yes,” D’Artagnan nodded. “It… he… he wishes to be **used**. He wishes to show his… his obedience. I… I am not sure…”

“Peace, D’Artagnan,” Aramis said when he began to grow agitated. “You are worried that, while he may desire to do this thing, his mind may not as yet allow him to. And you worry that ours will not be able to allow such a thing as well. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” he said in a rush, grateful beyond measure that Aramis seemed able to understand him so well.

“You are wise to worry,” Aramis told him, “but I do not think you have so much to fear in this. Can you tell me what it is you plan to do? Or have you not decided yet?”

“No, I know,” D’Artagnan said with a faint blush. “And, that is something else which I must ask you.”

“What?

“I would have you… help… if you’ve a mind to.”

“Help?” Aramis repeated. “Help how, exactly?”

“I would have you prepare him for me,” D’Artagnan explained. “First with your mouth, then with your fingers.”

“Merde!” Aramis gasped, pictures filling his mind and making him harden painfully in his breeches.

“I take it you’ve no objection then?” D’Artagnan asked with a hint of a smirk.

When Aramis shook his head, D’Artagnan leaned over and kissed him then began to outline what he had in mind for Athos. He told him of the part he wanted him to play and of how he intended Porthos to watch – unless the big man decided he wanted more direct participation. By the time he was done, both of them were hard and Aramis was panting at the thought of being both controlled by D’Artagnan and made to pleasure Athos as the same time.

It seemed to take forever, but Aramis finally managed to get himself back under control at least somewhat. “Athos… This is something Athos wants?” he managed to ask.

“Yes,” D’Artagnan confirmed then looked away. “His reasons are different than yours. Some are the same – he does wish to serve… to give pleasure. But there is another part for him as well.”

“And this part troubles you?” Aramis asked, noticing how D’Artagnan seemed unable to meet his eyes again. 

“Yes. He… He said…”

“Would you rather I ask Athos directly?” Aramis offered, seeing how hard the younger man was struggling.

“No,” D’Artagnan said, chuckling darkly. “Though I do not know, perhaps he might enjoy it.”

“D’Artagnan?”

“He said that he would find the idea of being put on his knees in front of his brothers humiliating,” D’Artagnan spat, forcing the words out. “And then he went on to explain that… that he found such a prospect quite arousing.”

“Oh,” Aramis replied taken aback for a moment. Of all of the things he had expected to hear, that Athos would enjoy being humiliated had never been among them. It seemed in direct opposition to the air of proud nobility that Athos projected more often than not.

“I do understand the difference between a forced humiliation and a consensual one,” D’Artagnan explained softly when Aramis remained silent. “But again, what our memories of the past will allow is difficult to know. And Athos, he is not the only one I have concern for in this.”

Aramis nodded, taking the other man’s words to heart. He was right to be concerned. He was not so worried about himself or even Athos in this. It was Porthos he was the most concerned for. He was the one that had tried to subjugate Athos against his will. And though it was not his fault, or even his doing really, he still bore the guilt of it.

“I do not think that anything you have outlined will cause a problem,” Aramis said. “But you will need to be mindful, especially of how you speak to him. While Porthos had no objection to you using certain phrases with me, he may very well object to them being used in regard to Athos.”

“That does not make sense,” D’Artagnan said with a frown.

“It does,” Aramis said, smiling at him softly. “But it does not seem fair so you do not think it _should_ make sense. You must remember, I was not the one that the demon tried to… to break that way. I was not the one it put on his knees. Athos was. And Porthos, he may not as yet be able to handle seeing him treated in such a manner again.”

“But…”

“She tried to break him, D’Artagnan,” Aramis said as gently as he could, knowing how much it hurt their youngest to think of what had been done to them while he had been gone. “She did everything in her power to degrade and humiliate him, including attempting to force him while I looked on. Porthos… he may not be able to see him being treated in such a way. To see him put on his knees would be one thing. To see him be **allowed** to serve as he wished would be one thing. But to see him degraded, humiliated, called a slut and a whore?”

“You fear it would thrust him back there again,” D’Artagnan put in, understanding. 

“Yes,” Aramis said sadly. “And I do not know what he might do if that happened. He could turn his anger and pain on himself or…”

“Porthos will not hurt me, Aramis,” D’Artagnan told him with no small amount of conviction. 

“He may not be seeing you, love.”

“He will always see me. Just as he will always see you and he will always see Athos. This is not a worry you need have. That my words or actions might drive him back to that hell, _that_ we should worry for, but not that he would harm me. Not ever that.”

Aramis simply stared at him for long seconds then he pulled him toward him until he could wrap his arms around him and hold him tight. “How you can be so very certain of _that_ yet think for one moment that we would ever cast you aside is beyond me.”

“I am sometimes rather foolish?” D’Artagnan ventured, his words muffled by Aramis’ neck and shirt. 

“Sometimes he says,” Aramis muttered back still holding him tightly. “Let me speak with Porthos. I will get his thoughts on this and then we three can sit down and speak of it together. I know Athos does not wish to know the particulars so we shall leave him out of it. If the three of us can come to an agreement then we can try.”

“Agreed,” D’Artagnan replied. “And I will mind my words. I believe I can give him what he desires without causing Porthos undue pain. Especially if you are willing to help me. And I already know he does not like an overly rough hand in certain things so I will avoid that as well.”

“You seem rather sure of yourself,” Aramis teased, trying to lighten the mood between them a bit. 

“Oh, I am,” D’Artagnan said. “I am certain that the sounds you will wrest from him with your devilish tongue will humiliate him quite thoroughly. Or do you doubt your ability?”

“I assure you, Whelp, I shall more than prove up to the task,” Aramis smirked. He grasped the younger man by the back of the neck and pulled him in to a demanding kiss, letting him feel just how pleasurable his mouth and tongue could be.


	51. Chapter 51

Part 51

That night, Aramis quietly asked Porthos to join him in their room. Athos looked at D’Artagnan in surprise, then blushed and looked away when he realized what it was that the two would likely be discussing. He understood that a great deal of talk would need to take place between his lovers, all of his lovers, before anything could happen. He had no wish to add to the guilt that Porthos still bore and would rather forget the idea entirely than take such a risk. He did, however, trust both D’Artagnan and Aramis to know this and to proceed accordingly.

Still, when he and D’Artagnan retired to their own room for the night, it was not without some small degree of trepidation. For all that Athos did not want to know the particulars, he hated not being aware of what was going on around him. It tended to set his teeth on edge – something he attributed whole-heartedly to the duplicitous nature of his former wife.

“You need not worry so,” D’Artagnan told him as they undressed for bed. He could tell how anxious his lover was and ached to comfort him. It was difficult, though, without knowing just how the talk between Aramis and Porthos might go. He had no wish to give Athos false hope or make a promise he was ultimately unable to keep.

“I know,” Athos replied. Once he was down to his small clothes, he climbed into the bed and waited for his lover to join him. 

“Then what is it?” D’Artagnan asked as he settled in next to Athos and pulled the man against him.

“I worry that they might try to do more than they are truly comfortable with,” Athos admitted. “I am not blind. I see how much Porthos still struggles. Some days the sadness in his eyes nearly sends me to my knees. I do not wish to make things worse for him. Or to undo the healing he has managed so far.”

“We know this,” D’Artagnan told him. “All of us know this, Athos. You must trust in us… in Aramis and in me… not to allow such a thing to happen. And if we do make a misstep, for we are only human, then we will see each other through it as we have with everything else.”

“You know I trust you.”

“I do,” D’Artagnan whispered and leaned his head down so that he could reach Athos’ lips. He kissed him then, putting as much love and care as he could into it, using the physicality of his love to show what his words could not.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“So,” Porthos began as Aramis settled into the bed curled against Porthos’ side, his head resting on Porthos’ shoulder. “Should I be worried?”

“Not as such,” Aramis replied carefully. He did not want to alarm Porthos unduly but he did not want to hide the truth of the matter either.

“That’s… less than reassuring.”

“It is nothing to truly worry about,” Aramis said. “But it is something we need to discuss and decide if you are comfortable with. If you are, then we can work out the details with D’Artagnan. If not, then no more needs to be said on the matter.”

“And why just D’Artagnan? Why not Athos, as well?” Porthos asked.

“Because Athos does not wish to know the actual details,” Aramis replied. “He is trusting in D’Artagnan in that regard. D’Artagnan, in turn, is trusting in us to help ensure that nothing goes farther than any of us are able to cope with.”

“Mayhap you ought to start at the beginning,” Porthos suggested. His stomach had turned into a tight ball of dread as Aramis continued to speak in such roundabout terms. “And speak plainly.”

“As you wish then,” Aramis said. He took a deep breath and then began to explain. “Athos wishes to experience something similar to what I did with D’Artagnan. In short, he wishes to serve. Or at least attempt to in his own manner.”

“Alright,” Porthos said slowly. They had all rather enjoyed the prior scene. He did not see where there would be much of a problem recreating it. However, from the look on Aramis’ face, it was clear that **he** thought there would be. “So what aren’t you telling me?”

Aramis sighed. He had known this would not be easy but he had not expected to feel such reluctance to speak of it. “According to D’Artagnan, part of the allure for Athos is the element of… humiliation that would be present in such a scenario.”

Porthos sucked in a breath at Aramis’ words and went still. He remembered all too clearly the horrible shame in his brother’s eyes when the demon had had him at its mercy. He knew Athos had found no enjoyment in what had been done to him. He could not see how Athos would ever want to experience such a thing again.

“Porthos,” Aramis called softly, attempting to draw him back to the present. “It is not the same, love. You must know that.”

“How?” Porthos ground out. “How is it different?”

“Because he wants it, for one,” Aramis replied evenly. “For another, it will be at the hands of his lovers, not some demon bent on destroying all of us. It is the same difference that exists between me being forced to my knees and going there willingly.”

“Why would he find shame in that, though?” Porthos asked, trying desperately to understand. He knew Athos did not think any less of Aramis for his own desires to submit to the will of another. Why would he think less of himself for the same thing?

“I do not believe it is the act of submission that he would find shame in,” Aramis tried to explain. “But in having us bear witness to it. He told D’Artagnan that it was the thought of being put on his knees and used in front of his brothers that he found humiliating. I think, for Athos, it is having others witness his loss of control. Even if that control is willingly handed over.”

“I… I am not sure…” Porthos stammered.

“Peace, love,” Aramis soothed as he stroked his chest and attempted to calm him. “This is why we are speaking of it. If you cannot do this then it will not happen. Athos knows this. Athos would not have us do this at your expense. You are far too dear to him to risk causing you harm in such a way.”

“But he wants it,” Porthos stated.

“Yes,” Aramis replied. “Or he thinks he does. He wants to try at any rate. I have warned D’Artagnan that he will have to be mindful, especially of how he speaks to Athos. I am not worried about the lad being overly rough with him. He knows Athos does not like such things, at least in certain regards. However, I have warned him that he will not be able to address him as he did me. That… that I did not think you would take so well to hearing Athos spoken to in such a manner.”

“Perhaps it would be best if I simply was not there,” Porthos suggested though the idea made his stomach turn. If they did want that, he knew he would have to take himself a good ways off, lest he be tempted to return.

“No,” Aramis told him. “None of us want that. If it is too soon, if you cannot as yet endure seeing him in such a position, then we shall wait.”

“My own shortcomings should not hold the rest of you back.”

“Shortcomings,” Aramis scoffed. “Now you sound as foolish as our young Gascon. You have no shortcomings. That you still struggle with what was done to you is not a shortcoming. It is not a failing. Do you see our struggles as failings? Is Athos’ back a shortcoming now?”

Porthos gasped and stared down at his lover. “You know I do not,” he choked out. 

“Then do not act as if we see your own scars as such,” Aramis told him. 

They fell silent then, each thinking about what it was Athos wanted and whether or not they would be able to give it to him. Aramis knew it depended mostly on D’Artagnan and his ability to steer the encounter away from those areas that might trigger Porthos’ memories of that time. For that to be successful, he would have to get Porthos to speak to them, letting them know the things that still pained him the most. 

He would also have to trust in D’Artagnan to be able to direct things while still keeping an eye on Porthos as he would most likely be otherwise occupied and unable to do so himself. All things considered, it was quite a burden to put on the lad and Aramis was concerned about whether he would be able to shoulder it.

“I need to know exactly what you two have in mind,” Porthos finally said. He was worried, he could not deny that, but he did not want to refuse Athos something he wanted. The man asked for so very little and settled for even less. If this was something he truly wanted, then Porthos would see him have it.

Aramis outlined D’Artagnan’s idea for him then, telling Porthos of the part that he was to play as well. He was not surprised to feel the man’s breathing pick up as he detailed it for him. His own breath was coming faster by the time he had finished as well.

“I do believe D’Artagnan would like you to join us in the end,” Aramis said. “If you feel so inclined, of course.”

“Join you?” Porthos asked a bit breathlessly.

“Hmm, yes. While we are still pleasuring Athos, I believe he would be quite pleased if you were to take me as well.”

Porthos groaned and reached down to grip himself through his small clothes with his free hand. “The boy has become a fiend,” he growled as he fought not to lose control entirely.

“Yes, he has, hasn’t he,” Aramis mused, the smirk in his voice quite clear.

“And you wish this as well?” Porthos asked, wanting to be sure.

Aramis chuckled. “Are you really asking me if I shall want you to take me, then and there, even as I pleasure Athos with my mouth? Do I truly need to answer such a question? I would think the answer would be quite obvious, but if it is not then the hardness currently digging into your hip should be more than answer enough.”

With a rumbling growl, Porthos pulled Aramis on top of him then flipped them over so that Aramis was flat on his back with Porthos lying atop him. “You like the thought of me losing all control and fucking you right there, don’t you?” he groaned as he ground his erection down into Aramis’ hip.

“Yes,” Aramis gasped as he tried to thrust up. Porthos’ bulk, however, prevented him, keeping him pinned firmly to the bed. “The thought of you kneeling behind me and simply freeing yourself from your breeches then shoving inside me…”

“I… I won’t hurt you…” Porthos panted, though the image burned white-hot behind his eyes making him ache for it.

“I’ll have to make sure I’m ready for you then,” Aramis said. “Nice and slick and stretched for your cock. Oh fuck, Porthos…”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll fuck you right now,” Porthos replied. He changed the angle slightly and ground down again, enjoying the noise it pulled from Aramis when their clothed erections pressed together.

Aramis leaned up and captured Porthos’ mouth once more. He kissed him hard, thrusting his tongue in deeply and stroking it along Porthos’ own. He luxuriated in the feel of Porthos pressing him down into their bed, holding him in place and taking what he wanted from him. The fact that it was **Porthos** allowed him the freedom to enjoy such a thing without fear and he gave himself over to it completely.

Porthos let Aramis lead the kiss at first as he concentrated on setting a rhythm for them. After a few moments, though, he took control, forcing his tongue into Aramis’ mouth and fucking it using the same rhythm. 

All Aramis could do at that point was grip Porthos’ arms and hold on as his lover drove them both toward the edge with ruthless abandon. Aramis was held in place so thoroughly that he could neither thrust his hips nor move his head. The only thing he could do was whimper as he stroked his tongue along Porthos’ own.

Tearing his mouth away, Porthos kissed along Aramis’ jaw until he reached his ear. He nuzzled it for a moment then bit down gently. “Spend for me,” he whispered then bit down again a bit harder. He was rewarded a moment later when Aramis’ body stiffened and he cried out as he began to spend. 

Porthos groaned at the feel of Aramis finding his completion beneath him. With a final rough push, he began to spend as well, his face buried in Aramis’ neck as he tried to stifle his cries of pleasure. When they were both finally sated, Porthos carefully rolled off Aramis and lay beside him as they struggled to catch their breath. Pulling off his soiled linens, Porthos wiped himself clean then helped Aramis out of his own and cleaned him up as well. Sleep came for them rather quickly after that.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Athos knew his three lovers needed to discuss things. He also knew that the closer he was, the harder it would be to give them the space they needed. He considered doing as D’Artagnan had done and visiting the garrison but the look on the others’ faces when he had suggested it quickly changed his mind. So instead, he had saddled Porthos’ horse and taken it riding along the trails, giving the animal some much needed exercise and attention while taking himself far enough away to ensure the others’ privacy.

“He did not have to leave,” Porthos said with a frown as he watched Athos ride off into the woods.

“Yes, he did,” Aramis replied. “You know how he is, especially when he thinks something is being kept from him, even if it _was_ his idea in the first place.”

“We know you don’t like him out alone,” D’Artagnan added. “But the trails are safe and he will not venture off of them. He will not worry us unnecessarily.”

“You are right, I know,” Porthos relented and turned back toward the others. He followed them inside and into the sitting room. Once they were seated, he looked to D’Artagnan, wanting to hear the younger man’s thoughts.

“I know Aramis spoke to you of Athos’ desires,” he began. “And I know you must have concerns, as we all do. If this is something you cannot do, that you are not prepared to witness, then you need only say so. Athos… he has no wish to hurt you in any way. He is worried that you will try to force yourself to endure something for his sake and he does not want that. None of us do.”

Porthos thought about what all D’Artagnan said and nodded. “I understand. I do have concerns. I know you won’t… won’t hurt him. But I’m not sure…”

“Not sure of what?” D’Artagnan asked when Porthos trailed off.

“I… I don’t know,” he growled in frustration. 

“Easy, love,” Aramis soothed. Allowing Porthos to get himself worked up would do none of them any good. 

“Let’s try this,” D’Artagnan said after a moment. “How about I make suggestions and you can tell me if you even think you could handle seeing Athos in such a situation?”

“Yeah, alright,” Porthos agreed. 

“Alright, so… we already know he doesn’t like his mouth taken roughly so that’s right out,” D’Artagnan said, hoping to allay some of Porthos’ fears by letting him know that anything Athos would not like would not be happening. 

“I don’t think he enjoys pain all that much,” D’Artagnan continued, “though I’ve not asked him as such. I know he does not mind his lover being forceful with him… does not mind the occasional bruises he has ended up with a few times. Would you be alright with that? With me being forceful with him?”

“Forceful how exactly?” Porthos asked.

D’Artagnan thought for a moment. “Gripping him harshly, pulling his hair, using it to guide him about even.”

Porthos nodded then licked his lips nervously. “That… that should be fine. You would not… you would not strike him, or threaten to strike him, though, right?”

“Never,” D’Artagnan vowed. “Not him. Not Aramis. Not _you_. I would never raise my hand to my brothers in such a way.”

The look of relief that came over Porthos’ face was almost painful to see. “You do know that Aramis, well, he _likes_ that sometimes.”

“To be hit?” D’Artagnan asked, unable to keep the incredulity from his voice. 

“More spanked actually,” Aramis put in, coloring slightly then blushing even more at the realization that he was blushing at all. 

“Oh,” D’Artagnan said weakly. “You scared me for a moment there. I… that is… I would not be opposed to that if it were something you wished. I had thought you meant…”

“You thought he meant I enjoyed being beaten,” Aramis supplied, his voice soft and low. He could see how much the very idea had upset the younger man and he found himself once again wanting to pull him close and shelter him. 

“Yes,” D’Artagnan replied. “Not that there is anything wrong with that. I mean, it is hard to control what we desire. I would never think less of you because of such. I would, however, wish to know just how you discovered this desire and demand a detailed list of everyone who had ever so much as attempted to satisfy it.”

“D’Artagnan,” Aramis groaned, their Whelp’s protective streak taking him by surprise once more. 

“No man raises a hand to you, Aramis,” D’Artagnan told him. “A spanking is one thing. Hard touches and pinches… a bit of pain to heighten the pleasure, I can understand that. We are men. We are soldiers. We are no strangers to pain. But no man raises a hand to you in violence and lives.”

“You will get yourself killed trying to defend me,” Aramis replied. “I have many enemies and they take great pleasure in causing me pain. You cannot protect me from all of them.”

D’Artagnan merely looked at him and smiled shyly. He reached out, wrapped his hand around the back of Aramis’ neck, and pulled him forward into a soft kiss. “That, dear Aramis, is what I have brothers for.”

Sitting back, D’Artagnan turned his attention to Porthos once more. The frank approval he saw in the man’s eyes encouraged him and he picked up where they had left off. “So, I may be forceful with him, but I will not raise a hand to him or even threaten to do so,” he reiterated. “And I will be mindful of how I use his mouth. Now, Aramis enjoyed when I referred to him in somewhat… derogatory ways. I believe Athos would respond similarly. However, Aramis and I are both unsure if you are prepared to hear him being verbally abused in such a manner.”

Porthos looked at the two men then looked away. He did not know what to say. He had not minded when the boy had spoken so to Aramis, calling him a slut and demeaning him in front of them all. Athos, however, was another story. He could remember all too well the things that demon had said to him as well as the things she had said only inside Porthos’ own mind. The idea of seeing Athos on his knees and being treated like a whore… being spoken to as such… 

“Yes, alright, that answers that then,” D’Artagnan said as he and Aramis moved to either side of the bigger man. They ran their hands up and down his arm and whispered gently to him, trying to bring him out of his memories and back to them. 

When Porthos finally managed to come back to his senses, he found both his hands balled tightly into fists and his brothers on either side of him looking frantic. “I’m… I’m alright,” he managed and forced his hands to unclench. 

“I am so sorry,” D’Artagnan said. “I did not mean… I will not speak to him that way. I promise you. Aramis said you would not take it well. I should have listened to him and never brought it up.”

“Hush, boy,” Porthos told him. “You did no wrong by asking. Not your fault I got lost in my head.”

“Can you tell us why this upsets you so, love?” Aramis asked once Porthos had calmed some. “I know part of it, but I think there must be more to it than that for I do not recall the demon speaking to him as such.”

“She did, some,” Porthos said slowly. “But you are right. It was more… more what she thought… inside my head… when she was hurting him. How far she could make him go to keep you safe. How much she could make him whore himself to protect you.”  
“I’m so sorry,” D’Artagnan said again, his voice strained. “I will not use… I will not treat him that way. Do… do I need to not use those… those words at all? With Aramis, I mean?”

“No,” Porthos shook his head. “They don’t bother me with Aramis. God, that sounds so horrible. I don’t mind you treatin’ Aramis like a whore, but not Athos.”

“Stop it,” Aramis said sharply. “You think I should find offense in this, but I do not. Nor will I ever.”

They stopped for a while then to allow all of them a chance to calm and regain their equilibrium. Once they were ready again, D’Artagnan told Porthos of how he wanted Aramis to assist him and the affect he thought that might have on Athos. “He is always in control. To have that control wrested from him so thoroughly, especially while you look on, will give him the humiliation he desires.”

“And are you sure you want me to… to join in… at the end?” Porthos asked.

“Only if you wish to,” D’Artagnan told him. “I’ll make sure Aramis is ready for you regardless. If you simply want to watch and have him afterwards, that is fine, too. That, I dare say, is what Athos will be expecting after all.”

“Alright,” Porthos agreed. “But…”

“What?” D’Artagnan asked.

“Are you sure you can do this, can give him what he wants, without that other stuff?”

“I am sure,” D’Artagnan told him. “I do not have to treat him as a whore to humiliate him utterly. Trust me in this.”

“I do, lad. I do.”


	52. Chapter 52

Part 52

D’Artagnan waited three days after his talk with Aramis and Porthos before deciding to go ahead with Athos’ wishes. He had wanted to give them all time to get accustomed to the idea as well as plenty of time for Porthos to change his mind. When it became clear that no one was going to back out, D’Artagnan decided it was time. 

Rising earlier than normal, he spent some time out with the horses, to both steady his nerves and get himself in the correct frame of mind. He knew that this time would be a great deal more challenging than his encounter with Aramis as he would need to keep a careful eye on all three of his brothers. Aramis seemed to have faith that he could handle it and D’Artagnan let his confidence bolster his own.

Just before sunrise, he returned to the house. He went to the room Aramis and Porthos shared and slipped inside. He could not help but smile at the contented picture the two of them made curled around each other protectively even in sleep.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Porthos asked in a sleep rough voice, his eyes still firmly closed.

“No,” D’Artagnan told him. “But… today, I think. If you both feel up to it.”

“Are you sure?” Aramis asked, blinking his eyes open to look at the other man. 

“I am,” he replied, “Unless either of you have changed your mind.”

“No,” Porthos said at once. “We’re good. When, uh, did you want to do it?”

“This afternoon, I think,” D’Artagnan said. “I’ll let him know after breakfast.”

“Alright,” Porthos grinned. “You may not want to keep him waiting quite as long as you did this one, though.”

“No,” D’Artagnan laughed. “I won’t. Not this first time at least. Besides, for Aramis, the anticipation only made it better. I think it’d only end up frustrating Athos too much.”

“Astute as always,” Aramis agreed as he sat up. When he did so, the thin sheet slid down to pool in his lap, revealing his bare chest. 

“Tease,” D’Artagnan muttered as he licked his lips and looked away, the sight of Aramis bare and sleep-tousled making his stomach clench in desire.

“Think you got the lad’s attention,” Porthos snorted in amusement at the obvious effect Aramis was having on the other man.

“He always has my bloody attention,” D’Artagnan groused. A moment later, he let the lust he felt show in his eyes and his voice became low and gravelly. “But he’s not getting any more than that until this afternoon. And if he isn’t careful, he’ll end up with a very red, very sore backside before we even start.”

“Yes, D’Artagnan,” Aramis said swallowing thickly. The bolt of lust that shot through him at the younger man’s words was like a physical blow and he had to fight to hang onto his self-control.

“Good boy,” D’Artagnan smirked. “I’ll see you two at breakfast then. You’ve got about an hour or so, if you’ve a mind…” With that, D’Artagnan turned and left them, closing the door to their room behind him. At least he knew he would have no trouble getting Aramis into the mindset that he required of him. Now all he had to worry about was whether he could do the same for Athos and Porthos.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

When Athos awoke, it was to an empty bed. He was not overly surprised by this since D’Artagnan often rose early especially when he had something on his mind as he so often did these days. He also had a very good idea of just what was preying on his young lover’s mind of late and felt a twinge of guilt. He did not mean to place even more of a burden on the man than he already had but he knew there was nothing to be done for it. D’Artagnan, with Aramis’ guidance, would decide what course of action to take and Athos would not know of it until it was either time to begin or the decision had been made to forego the attempt altogether.

Rubbing his hand over his face, Athos shoved the blanket aside and rose. He pushed his niggling worries to the back of his mind and concentrated instead on more pleasant things – like the thought of finding out what, if anything, his lovers might have planned for the day.

When he entered the kitchen, it was to find the others already there. Aramis and Porthos were seated at the table and D’Artagnan was preparing their morning meal. “Did I oversleep?” Athos asked as he kissed Aramis and Porthos both good morning and sat down next to them. 

“Nah,” Porthos grinned, his eyes twinkling with a mischief that Athos had not seen a long while. “We woke up early.”

“Indeed,” he replied, grinning in return. 

Breakfast was a companionable affair, with all four of them in rather high spirits. Once they had finished, they lingered around the table, simply enjoying each other’s company. It was remarkably domestic and that thought made Athos warm inside. 

“You alright?” Aramis asked when he caught a glimpse of the emotions on Athos’ face.

“Never better,” Athos replied truthfully. 

“Good,” D’Artagnan said. He had been gauging Athos’ emotional state, wanting to make sure he was up to this as well before beginning. 

Athos quirked an eyebrow at D’Artagnan’s reply in surprise. He glanced between the three of them then and began to get the feeling that he was being conspired against once more. “So,” he began carefully, “do my brothers have any plans for us for today?”

“You could say that,” D’Artagnan replied. “If you’ve a mind, I thought we might… play.” He chose his words carefully, using the same ones he had used with Aramis in fact. He hoped it might help set the stage for the others a bit if he at least began in the same way.  
“You… you are sure?” Athos asked, his mouth suddenly dry. He looked between the three of them searching for any sign of reluctance. When he found none, he turned his gaze back to D’Artagnan.

“Very sure,” he said. 

“Then yes, I would very much like to… to play,” Athos told him.

“Very good,” D’Artagnan praised then looked to Aramis. “Are you ready as well?”

“Yes, D’Artagnan,” Aramis replied. He took a deep, steadying breath. He could already feel desire coiling in his belly, low and hot, and knew he needed to calm himself if he was to be of any use to his… to D’Artagnan.

“God, Aramis,” D’Artagnan moaned. “The way you sound when you say that… I think you do it just to see if you can make me lose control.” 

“Not… not intentionally,” Aramis told him. 

Taking a few calming breaths himself, D’Artagnan smiled at Aramis then turned his attention back to Athos once more. The open lust he saw on his lover’s face told him he was doing well enough so far. “Give me three hours,” he said. “In three hours, I’ll return. When I do, I expect to find you both waiting in the sitting room. Am I understood?”

“Yes, D’Artagnan,” Aramis replied at once.

“Yes, D’Ar…” Athos began only to have D’Artagnan cut him off.

“Sir,” he told him. “Aramis calls me D’Artagnan. You, I would have call me Sir.”

“Ye-yes, Sir,” Athos replied roughly as he struggled to draw in a full breath. It felt like all of the air had suddenly been sucked out of the room and he gripped the table hard to hold himself steady. 

“Porthos, would you keep an eye on them for me in the meantime?” D’Artagnan asked. He kept his eyes glued to Athos, a bit concerned about the strength of his reaction. He was also concerned about how Porthos might respond and was hoping his answer would let him know if he had made a misstep or not.

“Always,” Porthos said with certainty, his voice strong though the underlying edge of lust was clear as well.

D’Artagnan felt himself relax a bit at Porthos’ reply. Evidently, having Athos call him ‘Sir’ did not cross any lines with the other man. He was glad. He truly thought Athos would find the same pleasure in it as he did when he had used other words with him – words he did not dare use in Porthos’ presence. At least not yet.

Getting to his feet, D’Artagnan moved next to Athos and slid a hand into his hair. He pulled his head back gently and kissed him, tasting the man thoroughly before finally releasing him. He glanced at Porthos and let his eyes slide to Aramis, as if silently seeking permission. At Porthos nod, he released Athos and moved to Aramis side. He smiled down at him as he slid his hand in Aramis’ hair and kissed him as thoroughly as he did Athos. 

Unable to hide his grin, D’Artagnan glanced at Porthos again when he stepped back from Aramis. He hesitated for only a moment then leaned down to brush a much more chaste kiss to Porthos’ mouth. He would still be mindful, he could not stop himself from acting as such, but he would no longer deny his brother the affections of his heart.

“I will be working with the horses if you’ve need of me,” he said as he stroked Porthos’ jaw. 

“I’ll look after them,” Porthos told him, his voice rough with emotion. “You do whatever you need to get yourself ready and don’t worry about them.”

“I never worry about them when they are with you, brother.”

“Whelp…” Porthos choked then cleared this throat. “Is there any… any special way you want them when you get back?”

“No,” D’Artagnan shook his head. “Just waiting in the sitting room with you. If there is anything **you** would like for them to do, brother, you know you have but to ask it.”

“I doubt you will need any direction from me,” Porthos chuckled. “Believe me, lad, I am looking forward to the show you have planned as much as these two are.”

“Good,” D’Artagnan told him. “I know it is Athos’ desires, his fantasy, but I wish for you to enjoy it just as much as they do. I believe our brothers wish that as well.”

“I do,” Athos said at once. “I would have… to know you find pleasure in… in watching me…”

“And you know I do as well,” Aramis said, the forced calmness of his voice a direct contrast to the breathlessness of Athos’.

Porthos groaned and pulled D’Artagnan down into a sudden, fierce kiss. “If you do not wish to start this right now, you need to go,” he said when he released him.

“Alright,” D’Artagnan said with a grin as he headed toward the door leading out to the barn. “Three hours, no more, I promise. And if you have need of me sooner, I will not be far.”

“We can last three hours, lad,” Porthos told him. “Now go. I know you still need to get your head together for this. And all three of us could stand to calm down a mite.”

With a last look at them all, D’Artagnan did as Porthos said and headed out to the barn. He really did need to get into the right frame of mind in order to do this properly. To don the cloak of one so openly dominant, especially of those he cared for as much as these men, was not natural for him. He was not forceful with his lovers by nature. Nonetheless, it was a role he could play when called upon to do so. And it caused him no harm to indulge his lovers in this.

To do so, however, required him to call upon parts of himself that he normally reserved for missions or the battlefield. Thinking about it, he wondered if Aramis would be willing to discuss the matter with him. It was quite the dichotomy, actually, to have to channel his Musketeer personae in such an intimate setting.

As he fed and groomed the horses, D’Artagnan ran over the scenario in his head once more. He knew how he planned to start and had a general idea of how he expected things to play out. He was still unsure if Porthos planned to join them in the end or merely watch, but that was largely irrelevant to the scenario as a whole. The most difficult parts, he knew, would be minding his language with Athos and keeping a weather eye on Porthos. He knew first-hand just how fast the man could become lost in his memories. The last thing any of them wanted was for that to happen today. 

D’Artagnan remained outside until only half an hour remained. He checked the horses one last time then headed back to the house. He wanted to have time to clean up and change clothes before joining the others. As he approached the house, he was surprised to realize just how quickly he was walking, his eagerness impelling him to reunite with his lovers as quickly as possible.

Once he had bathed and changed into loose fitting clothes, D’Artagnan headed to the sitting room. As soon as he stepped into the room, he froze at the sight that greeted him. A fire burned in the hearth, making the room warm. Porthos sat on the divan, one big arm resting across the back of it, his eyes glued to the other occupants of the room. And it was those other occupants that froze D’Artagnan in his tracks. 

For there, in front of the hearth, were Athos and Aramis. Both were dressed in loose shirts that hung part way open and breeches. Both men were barefoot. And both men were kneeling on the rug that had been moved over in front of the fireplace, their arms at their sides and their heads bowed. D’Artagnan felt a wave of lust slam into him and had to take a moment to steady himself before walking fully into the room.

“If this is how you keep an eye on our brothers, Porthos,” he began as he walked over to stand in front of the two men without blocking Porthos’ line of sight. “I believe you should be tasked with the duty far more often.”

“They look good like that, don’t they?” Porthos asked, shifting slightly on the divan.

“They look amazing,” D’Artagnan agreed. “Thank you, brother, for taking such good care of them.”

“Believe me, lad, the pleasure was most certainly mine.”

D’Artagnan looked at Porthos and smiled then turned his attention back to the two men kneeling before him. “Are you two ready?” he asked them one last time.

“Yes, D’Artagnan,” Aramis replied. 

“Yes, Sir,” Athos echoed, his cheeks already flushing slightly at addressing the younger man in such a manner, from his knees, in front of his brothers.

“Good boys,” D’Artagnan said as he reached out and touched both of their heads, lifting them up so that they were looking at him. “Remember, if at any time you want things to stop all you need do is say so or simply tap twice on my arm or leg. Now, strip each other for me. Show me what I get to play with today.”

He released them and took a step back, wanting to be able to watch them properly. He was pleased when Aramis rose effortlessly to his feet and reached out to help Athos rise as well. He could see that the older man was already quite affected and made a note to proceed gradually to let Athos attempt to adjust.

Slowly and with a deliberate sensuality, Aramis began to remove Athos’ clothes. He guided the other man in removing his own as well, helping him to make the experience as erotic as possible for the two men watching. D’Artagnan knew that such displays were not something Athos was accustomed to and he could see his blush deepen. 

“You are both exquisite,” he said as he continued to watch them. “Look at you, already showing yourselves off to us without even being told to.” 

“I always like to please,” Aramis offered.

“I know you do. Such a perfect, pleasing slut you are. Isn’t that right, Athos?”

“He… he… yes, he is… is always pleasing,” Athos finally managed, taking completely off guard by D’Artagnan’s question. 

“Yes, he is,” D’Artagnan agreed. “Do you wish to be as pleasing? Do you wish to be perfect for me as well?”

“Please,” Athos gasped. They were both fully naked now, their arousal on display for all to see. 

“You want to do what I say, don’t you, Athos? You want to be **obedient**.”

“I do,” Athos nodded, blushing hotly at the admission. “I… I want to serve.”

“Hmmm… so you’ve said,” D’Artagnan replied as he circled the pair, eying the up and down. “But do you know how I wish you to serve? Are you ready to do _whatever_ it is I wish of you?”

“Yes, Sir,” Athos replied. 

“Even when I tell you I want to fuck you in front of them?” D’Artagnan pressed. “Even when I tell you I will have you riding me while they watch?”

“Oh God,” Athos groaned and swayed into Aramis for a moment as his knees suddenly weakened. 

“And me, D’Artagnan? How do you wish to make use of me today?” Aramis asked. 

“Oh I have very definite plans for you,” he smirked. “You, little slut, are going to use that wicked, wicked mouth of yours to work our Athos open. You are going to use your lips and tongue to get him nice and slick and loose for me.”

“Fuck yeah,” Porthos growled softly from the divan, letting all three of them know that he was just as turned on by the prospect as they all were.

Wrapping a hand in each of their hair, he pulled them into a kiss, first Athos then Aramis. Without letting go, he pulled downward directing them to their knees once more. When they were both kneeling, he began backing toward the divan, his hands still fisted in their hair so that they had no choice but to crawl after him. 

When his knees hit the back of the divan, D’Artagnan sat down. He released his lovers then and leaned back. “You know what to do, little slut,” he told Aramis then turned back to Athos. “And you, pet, unlace my breeches and pull out my cock. I think it’s past time that mouth of yours did something useful.”

As both men scrambled to obey their orders, D’Artagnan chanced a glance at Porthos. He saw a hint of anxiety but no real fear. At the man’s nod, he turned his attention back to the other two just in time to see Aramis spread Athos’ cheeks and lick a long stripe all the way up his cleft.

To say Athos had never experienced anything like that before would be an understatement of almost tragic proportions. He very nearly convulsed at the first touch of Aramis’ agile tongue on such a sensitive and forbidden place and grasped wildly at D’Artagnan’s thighs.

“Easy, pet,” D’Artagnan soothed. He gripped Athos’ hair again, hoping the slight pain would give him a counterpoint to the intense pleasure. He could see that Aramis had stilled, giving Athos a chance to recover his wits and D’Artagnan to determine if he should go on or not. 

“D’Artagnan?” Aramis asked after a moment, unsure if he should continue or not.

“Go ahead, Aramis,” D’Artagnan told him. “He can take it. You can take it, can’t you, Athos? Because I’m telling you to. Because I’m telling you that you have no choice.”

“Yes… yes, Sir,” Athos panted against his thigh. “I… I can take whatever you say I can take.”

“That’s right,” D’Artagnan said, pleased. “Now be a good pet and take my cock out. I want to feel that mouth of yours on it.”

“Yes, Sir,” Athos replied more steadily this time. He had just freed D’Artagnan from his breeches when he felt Aramis’ breath ghost against him in warning. Then that hot tongue was touching him again, pressing against his bollocks and licking upward until it reached his hole. There, he felt it moving over him, as if mapping the ridges of his flesh before pushing inside of him the tiniest bit.

Athos cried out then, unable to help himself as he felt Aramis breach his body with his tongue. He had a moment to simply pant then D’Artagnan was pushing his erect cock between his lips, stifling his cries and giving him something else to focus on.

D’Artagnan kept his hand on the back of Athos’ head, not really holding him down but merely reminding him of what it was he was supposed to be doing. He did not want to use any real force with Athos in this, all too aware of his dislikes in this regard. However, he thought the subtle reminder might be necessary with Aramis doing his level best to drive the man completely out if his mind.

“Oh fuck, Aramis, yes,” D’Artagnan encouraged. “Such a good little slut. Make him scream on my cock again.”

Aramis moaned at the praise, feeling it all the way through him. He felt his mind start to drift and fought to hold onto it, knowing that D’Artagnan might need him to actually be cognizant tonight rather than half out of his mind, lost to his own pleasure. 

“Don’t fight it, little one,” D’Artagnan said softly, not missing the way Aramis struggled to remain in control rather than letting go as he did the last time. “I can take care of this. You… you go where you need to.”

“Yes, D’Artagnan,” Aramis gasped, pulling away from Athos’ body just long enough to speak before literally diving back in. The resultant sound that tore from Athos did indeed sound like a scream and D’Artagnan moaned as it vibrated against his hard flesh.

Not wanting to spend like this, D’Artagnan pulled Athos mouth from him. He looked into his eyes and was gratified to find them glassy with need. Deciding it was past time he gave his lover the humiliation he sought, D’Artagnan ran his thumb over his lips before pressing it inside and stroking over his tongue with it. 

Athos, for his part, panted around D’Artagnan’s thumb and simply tried to keep from going insane. Aramis’ mouth was doing truly unholy things to his body and it felt like his very soul was on fire. Without D’Artagnan’s cock in his mouth to muffle him, the sounds pouring out of him were enough to have him blushing once more but he was powerless to stop them. Every time he tried, Aramis did something new with his tongue and he found himself gasping and moaning all over again.

“Tell us,” D’Artagnan ordered when he pulled his thumb free. “Tell us what he’s doing to you. Tell us how it feels, pet.”

“He… he…he…” Athos stammered almost unable to form words. He glanced up at D’Artagnan and saw the look of unbridled lust on his face. He let his eyes slide to Porthos and when he saw the exact same look there, he felt his bollocks tighten alarmingly. “Please! Please! I will spend!”

“No, you will not!” D’Artagnan growled. He leaned forward so that his face was next to Athos’ and gripped his chin forcing him to look up at him. “You will not spend until you riding my cock. Do you understand me, pet?”

“Yes, Sir!” Athos nearly shouted. 

“Now tell us what he is doing to you. Tell _Porthos_ what Aramis is doing with that mouth of his.”

Athos flushed hot all over and tried to look away but D’Artagnan held his head firmly in place. He felt delicious humiliation roil through him at the thought of being so out of control before his brother. The knowledge that he was on display for Porthos, that the man was watching his every move and listening to his every shameful cry, made him feel so very small even as it made his cock ache and his bollocks tighten once more.

“His tongue…” Athos tried again, forcing the words out even as they made him feel smaller still. “He… he is licking me… there. My… my hole. He… he is pressing it… pressing it **in**. Oh, he is pressing it **inside** of me.”

“Yeah,” Porthos grunted, licking his lips at the sight before him. His own cock was hard and aching in his breeches but he did not want to even touch himself yet, too afraid he would lose control if he did. “He’s fuckin’ you with that tongue of his, isn’t he? Makin’ you take it. Gettin’ you nice and wet and ready for our boy’s cock.”

Aramis had been listening to what was going on and had to reach down to grip his own erection to keep from spending. He shoved his tongue in as far as he could then, wanting to see how loud he could make Athos scream. He was rewarded by the most guttural sound he had ever heard the man make and quickly released himself to spread Athos wide again.

“Time for your fingers, little slut,” D’Artagnan said, knowing he had to move things along before he ended up spending too soon himself. “Have Athos get them good and wet for you. Don’t worry; you’ve got him loose enough by now that won’t need more than spit.”

“D’Artagnan…” Porthos said uneasily.

“Peace, brother,” D’Artagnan whispered. “I will use plenty of oil before I take him. I will not hurt him, I give you my word.”

Porthos hesitated a moment then nodded. The boy was right. After Aramis’ ministrations, Athos would be more than able to take his fingers with just spit. As long as the boy made sure to use oil before he took him, there should be no harm done.

D’Artagnan waited until Aramis had taken his fingers from Athos’ mouth before lifting the man’s head up by the hair again. “I bet Porthos would love some attention right now, don’t you, pet?” he said. “He’s been so good, looking out for you, taking care of you. Tell me, I know he hasn’t taken your ass yet, but has he taken you here?” D’Artagnan caressed his lips then, making what he meant by ‘here’ quite clear.

“No, not yet, Sir,” Athos replied. He opened his mouth to say something else but Aramis chose that moment to slide two long fingers inside of him, causing his words to turn into a long, low moan as he once again grabbed onto D’Artagnan’s thighs and held on. 

D’Artagnan paused to give Athos a moment to get himself back under control. He could only imagine how good Aramis’ talented fingers had to feel sliding inside of his loosened, spit-slick hole. “Do you want that, pet? Do you want to taste his cock? Feel it push inside your mouth until you it fills you completely?”

“Yes,” Athos groaned, his eyes closing at the sudden image of Porthos taking his mouth. He could see it so clearly in his mind. Porthos standing above him while he knelt between his legs, eager for the taste of him. 

“Look at him,” D’Artagnan commanded. He wanted Athos to see the effect he was having on Porthos, but more than that, he wanted Porthos to see exactly how excited Athos was at even the thought of Porthos taking him that way. 

Athos opened his eyes and focused on Porthos. He could see the desire written on his face as well as no small amount of fear. Releasing D’Artagnan’s thigh with one hand, he reached out and gripped Porthos’ hand hard. “Never doubt that I want you. In every way that one man can want another. Your touch… that is one thing I shall never fear.”

“Athos,” Porthos rasped. He leaned forward and kissed him hard and fast, pouring the love and desire and pent up fear he felt into it. When he pulled back, he pressed a last kiss to Athos’ forehead then glanced at D’Artagnan and nodded his thanks. 

Aramis had heard the exchange between the other three and felt his heart swell in gratitude. He knew what their Whelp was trying to do and he was so very grateful. As he continued to work Athos open, he was careful not to completely overwhelm him. He knew D’Artagnan still planned on taking him and he wanted Athos to be able to last through as much of it as he possibly could. 

Concentrating on Athos, Aramis let himself sink once more. He longed to be touched, to feel any of his lovers’ hands upon his body, but he easily pushed those desires down. His place tonight was to serve and he would do so to the very best of his ability. He would please his… D’Artagnan. He would please him and, in turn, please Porthos and Athos. 

Distantly, he was aware that he was sinking lower than he normally allowed, even with someone he trusted. He was so intent on serving… on pleasing… that he knew, if he went much deeper, even his own release would not matter to him. Nothing would matter except what was commanded of him by the beautiful boy binding him so inextricably to him.

“Aramis,” D’Artagnan called softly. He frowned when Aramis did not respond right away before he realized what the problem might be. “Aramis, little one, come back to me a bit.” He kept his voice soft and encouraging, not wanting the man to think he had done anything wrong. 

“Yes, D’Artagnan,” Aramis replied, having to force himself back to the front of his mind again.

“Are you alright?”

“Oh, oh yes. I… I am sorry. I…”

“Shhh, no,” D’Artagnan said immediately. “You did no wrong, little one. I simply wanted to check on you. Now, do you think Athos is ready for me or does he need your fingers a bit more?”

“He… he should be ready,” Aramis said. “But… go slow perhaps and… the oil?”

“I have it,” D’Artagnan said and held up the sealed jar. 

Aramis relaxed at that, knowing that D’Artagnan would see to Athos’ comfort and would do nothing to harm the man. Sitting back on his heels, he looked at him then glanced at Porthos, unsure what was wanted of him now.

“Come up here, little one,” D’Artagnan said when he saw the indecision on Aramis’ face. “Get my cock nice and slick for him. Then, once I’m buried to the hilt inside of him, you can put that wicked mouth of yours back to work on his bollocks.”

Aramis grinned widely and quickly scrambled to obey. Without leaving his knees, he moved up next to Athos, glancing at him shyly, and reached out to stroke D’Artagnan’s cock once. He smiled even more, pleased with himself at the sound of desire he wrung from the younger man. 

“You are an absolute wonder,” D’Artagnan said as he stroked Aramis’ jaw lovingly. He handed him the bottle of oil and spread his legs a bit wider. He wound his opposite hand in Athos’ hair and directed him to move to the side so that Aramis could have room. He did not miss the look of wonder on Athos’ face as he watched Aramis serve him this way. 

For his part, Aramis practically preened under the praise. His sense of self was almost completely subverted within his need to serve and Aramis reveled in it. Pouring a generous portion of the oil in his hand, Aramis rubbed his fingers together to warm it then reached for D’Artagnan’s cock once more. He gripped him firmly and stroked, running his hand up and down the shaft to coat it thoroughly. He did this twice more before sitting back and looking up at D’Artagnan.

“Perfect,” D’Artagnan praised then turned to Athos. “Ready, pet?”

“Yes, please, Sir,” Athos answered his voice strained with the want he felt coursing through him.

“Come straddle my lap then,” D’Artagnan instructed. When Athos began to climb onto his lap facing him, he stopped him and gently turned him around so he was facing outward. “Let them see you, pet. Let them watch while you ride my cock. You want that, don’t you?”

“Y-y-yes, Sir,” Athos said, blushing furiously as he did.

“Good boy,” D’Artagnan replied. He maneuvered Athos until he was straddling him the way he wanted and pulled him back against his chest. He wrapped one hand in his hair and kissed him on the neck, biting down and sucking hard enough to leave a mark that would not fade any time soon, and drawing a low moan from Athos in the process. Holding him against his chest, D’Artagnan steadied his cock so that the head was nestled against his slick hole. 

Athos moaned again when he felt the head of his lover’s cock pressing against his loosened hole. He felt so exposed like this, naked and spread open on D’Artagnan’s lap. The feel of his clothes against his naked body was incredibly arousing. He could feel the roughness of the other man’s shirt against his back as well as his breeches and linens against his legs. The fact that Porthos, also fully dressed, was watching him as he displayed himself so wantonly only added to both his arousal and the decadent humiliation that rolled all through him.

“Deep breath, pet,” D’Artagnan whispered as he began to push upward. He felt a momentary resistance then he was breaching Athos’ body and sliding inside for the first time. “Oh fuck. So good…”

“Please…” Athos begged as he felt D’Artagnan slowly filling him. He reached back, desperate to hold onto him and gripped him where he could. It seemed to take forever to Athos until D’Artagnan was fully seated inside of him. By that time, Athos was shaking slightly, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he tried to stay still.

“You’re doing so well,” D’Artagnan whispered to him. He stayed still once he was finally inside him fully, giving him time to adjust to both the penetration and the position. He wrapped his arm around Athos’ middle as he waited, trying to ground him somewhat and was relieved when his shaking lessened. 

Once he felt Athos’ body start to relax D’Artagnan kissed him on the neck again and reached out to Aramis. “Come here, little one,” he motioned. When Aramis was close enough, he sank his hand into his hair once more and pulled him forward, directing his mouth back where to he wanted it.

Aramis came forward eagerly, remembering D’Artagnan’s desire for him to continue using his mouth on Athos while he took him. Aware that Porthos was watching, he stayed on his hands and knees as he brought his mouth to Athos’ bollocks and began to lick and suck them, even letting his tongue snake lower so he could swipe at Athos’ hole where D’Artagnan’s cock began to slowly move in and out of him.

The stuttering cry he wrung from Athos as well as the hard thrust from D’Artagnan was ample reward and he felt his cock jerk in reaction. He could feel the oil that coated his hole and was smeared between his cheeks and he ached for Porthos to join them… to take him then and there while he pleasured Athos, and D’Artagnan, as he was bade.

“Do you like it, pet?” D’Artagnan gasped as he fucked up into Athos with a steady rhythm. “Do you like having our little slut’s mouth on you? Look at him. Does he not look amazing? Almost **transcendent** in his servitude.”

“He… he is… he always…” Athos tried to speak but the words simply would not come. He felt like he was being pulled in so many different directions at once. All he could think of at the moment was how good it felt to give himself over this way and how much he loved these men for indulging him so.

“I know, pet,” D’Artagnan said as he began to thrust harder. He glanced over at Porthos, knowing that if the man was going to join them then he would need to do so soon. At the look of aching want on Porthos’ face he nodded, hoping to reassure him that he was more than welcome in this. 

Porthos looked at him then back to Athos and Aramis. The sight of both of them giving themselves over so freely was more than he could take. With a growl, he slid to the floor and quickly moved behind Aramis. 

Aramis had been so intent on pleasuring Athos that he did not notice Porthos moving up behind him until he felt the man’s hands grip his hips. He moaned against Athos’ bollocks as he realized just what that meant. He started to pull back, wanting to look over his shoulder, but D’Artagnan’s hand in his hair, holding him in place, prevented him. The knowledge that D’Artagnan was holding him there, that he was meant solely to be for their _use_ , sent a thrill through him and he found himself the one shaking now.

“Gonna fuck you so good,” Porthos growled as he practically tore open his breeches and freed himself. He spread Aramis’ cheeks and sucked in a breath at the glistening oil that coated him. He remembered D’Artagnan’s earlier words about making sure Aramis was prepared for him and felt his stomach clench in desire. 

Porthos took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself then took guided himself forward until the head of his cock was pressed firmly against Aramis’ slick hole. With one hand holding his hip tight enough to bruise, Porthos began to push forward. He was a little surprised at the amount of resistance but before he could grow concerned, Aramis’ body gave way and the head of his cock breached him. 

Even if Aramis had not cried out as he did, Porthos would have stopped to give him time to adjust. His lover was tight. Even tighter than he had been their first time together and Porthos did not want to chance hurting him. 

“Breathe, love,” he crooned as he stroked along Aramis’ side with the hand that was not still gripping his hip tightly. He glanced up at D’Artagnan and Athos and saw twin looks of worry reflected back at him. He shook his head, letting them know that it was alright to continue. “He’s tight. Shouldn’t have waited as long as I did.”

Taking Porthos at his word and knowing he would make sure that Aramis was taken care of, he turned his attention back to Athos and began moving inside him once more, having stopped when Porthos had moved to join them. He kept his hand in Aramis’ hair, still directing the man to pleasure Athos, hoping it would help to relax him and make Porthos’ entry easier.

Aramis had tried to stifle his cry when Porthos had first breached him but it had been impossible. While he had prepared himself, the long wait between that time and this had allowed his body to tighten once more. The effect of which was to cause Porthos’ already substantial cock to feel twice its actual size. Even with Porthos holding still, Aramis could not help but moan as he did his best to do as D’Artagnan bade him. 

Even as D’Artagnan resumed fucking Athos, he kept part of his attention on Aramis. He did not miss the fact that he continued to shake even as Porthos did his best to soothe him. Frowning slightly, he tugged backward on Aramis’ hair, pulling him away from Athos’ body for a moment so he could look at him. 

“Little one? Are you alright?” he asked, concerned. He was aware that Aramis had gone deeper inside of himself this time than he had before but the continued shaking worried him. 

“Y-y-y-yes,” he stammered. “Ju-ju-just… so much.”

“Do you need him to stop?” D’Artagnan knew Porthos would stop in an instant if that was what Aramis needed. His only concern was that Aramis would not tell them so.

“No, please,” Aramis pleaded, looking suddenly frantic. “I-I-I just ne-ne-need a moment.”

“Take what time you need, love,” Porthos told him. “You tell me when you’re ready, yeah?”

Aramis nodded, unable to force any more words out at the moment. He concentrated on trying to slow his breathing and get control of his shaking, knowing that was what was worrying his lovers the most. Finally, he could feel himself relaxing a bit and his shaking growing calmer, though it did not stop completely. At least Porthos’ cock no longer felt like it was roughly the size of his _arm_ anymore. 

“You… you can… can go ahead,” he finally managed. He looked up at D’Artagnan then and smiled. “I would… I would still serve, if you would have me.”

“Always, little one,” D’Artagnan told him. Gently, he guided Aramis’ head back to Athos’ body. He let himself start to thrust faster as Aramis returned to tormenting Athos’ bollocks. He could see Porthos doing his best to move slowly but he knew his control was holding on by threads… as was his own. 

“Is this what you wanted, pet?” D’Artagnan whispered into Athos’ ear, making sure to pitch his voice just loud enough for all of them to hear. “To be used by all of your brothers at once? Look at Porthos. Look at what your display has driven him to. Perhaps I should not have prepared Aramis for him after all. Perhaps, I should have simply let him take _you_ when I was finished.”

Throwing back his head, Athos screwed his eyes shut and cried out as he began to spend. He had tried to control himself but D’Artagnan’s words had driven him beyond reason. He could feel his body clamping down hard on D’Artagnan’s length as it continued to move inside of him. Suddenly, a gasp from Aramis caused his eyes to fly open and he looked down to find that not only had he covered his own chest and belly with his seed, but Aramis’ face was streaked with it as well. 

The sight of Athos losing control so utterly and spending on himself tore through the last shreds of Porthos’ control. He groaned loudly as he watched his seed splatter over Aramis’ face in a long, wet stripe and he gripped his hips with both hands and began to fuck him in earnest, desperate to spend himself. 

Thankfully, it did not take long before Porthos was slamming into Aramis fully and grinding against him as he spent, filling him with what felt to Porthos like all of the fluids in his body. By the time he was finished, he was leaning over his lover’s body, panting into his neck and barely keeping from collapsing on the man.

“Spend… Sir, please… spend,” Athos panted as he D’Artagnan continued to fuck up into him. He could feel him losing his rhythm and knew he was close so he clenched down hard, earning him a startled shout from his lover as he thrust up hard one final time and began to spend.

When D’Artagnan could think past the blinding pleasure, he realized he was holding onto Athos hard enough to bruise and panting like he had just run all the way to the garrison and back. He began to take stock of his lovers, noting that Porthos was starting to raise himself up off of Aramis, his own limbs seeming as uncooperative as D’Artagnan’s. 

It was not until Porthos began to pull out of Aramis that D’Artagnan realized something was amiss. The low moan the man gave let him know that. It had not sounded like a moan of pain, however, and that was when D’Artagnan saw that Aramis was shaking hard once again.

“Aramis? Little one?” he called. When he received no reply, he carefully slid himself from Athos’ body and helped him move to sit beside him. Once Athos was settled he reached down and took Aramis by the chin and raised his head. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“No-no-nothing,” Aramis stammered.

“Little one, do not lie to me,” D’Artagnan scolded gently. 

“I am not lying,” he said forcing himself to calm enough to speak. “I… I will be fine. I just… need a moment.”

“Oh,” D’Artagnan said, understanding dawning. “You did not spend. You should have said.”

“It is of no importance,” Aramis said shaking his head.

“No importance,” Porthos repeated. He was about to say more when a look from D’Artagnan stopped him. 

“And if I **want** you to spend? Is it important then?” D’Artagnan asked.

“Of course,” Aramis replied. “Whatever you wish of me, you have but to command.”

“I wish, very much, to see you spend, little one,” D’Artagnan told him. “Our Athos is covered in his own spend. I would see you add yours to that.”

“Oh, yes, D’Artagnan,” Aramis said at once. He knelt up then and moved forward so he was on his knees in front of Athos who was seated beside D’Artagnan on the divan. His cock was hard and red, jutting out from his body almost angrily. Taking himself in hand, he knew it would not take much at all for him to spend, especially with all three of his lovers looking at him with such open love and devotion. A few short strokes later and Aramis cried out as he began to spend all over Athos’ stomach and groin, adding his own seed to the mess already covering him. 

When he finally finished, he sank back on his heels so fast he nearly collapsed and would have if Porthos had not grabbed him and held him up. With a soft kiss to his temple, Porthos eased him up and onto the divan next to Athos then sat down on the end so that he and D’Artagnan had the two of them safely bracketed between them.

“You okay?” D’Artagnan asked once Porthos was settled with Aramis resting against him.

“Yeah,” Porthos replied. “Bit more intense than I was expectin’ is all.”

“You are not wrong there, brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for where this ended. The after scene will be next.


	53. Chapter 53

Part 53

They stayed on the divan together, slowly letting themselves calm. Once he felt steady enough, D’Artagnan slipped away to the kitchen and brought back a basin of water and some rags. He handed one to Porthos and motioned toward Athos then turned to Aramis and began cleaning him up. While Athos was definitely the messiest of them, he took his time with Aramis, not wanting to do anything that might jar him out of the mindset he was quite obviously still in. 

Once they had them both clean, Porthos and D’Artagnan gave themselves a cursory cleaning then set the basin aside. “Together tonight?” Porthos asked, hoping the younger man would agree. While he wanted both Athos and Aramis where he could keep an eye on them tonight, he was more concerned with Athos at the moment. After the intensity of the scene, he wanted some time to simply be with the other man.

“Of course,” D’Artagnan replied. “Can you take Athos?” He could see that Porthos _needed_ to be close to Athos right now and was trying his best to allow for it. Porthos never made demands on Athos’ time or attention. For him to be showing such need now was telling. 

“Yeah, I got him,” Porthos agreed gratefully. “Can you handle Aramis?”

D’Artagnan nodded and started to reach down to begin guiding Aramis to his feet and to their room for the night then paused. He looked at Porthos searchingly for a moment before pitching his voice low enough so that only he could hear. “If you would rather spend the night with Athos alone, you have but to say. I can manage Aramis on my own for the night.”

Porthos smiled softly but shook his head. “Rather have us all together,” he said. “I’d only worry about the two of you if you were off by yourselves right now.”

“Very well,” D’Artagnan relented. He reached for Aramis again and took him by the arms. “Come on, Little One, up you get. Time to go lie down and rest for a bit.”

For his part, Aramis let himself be pulled up from the divan and guided toward their shared room. He was surprised that it was D’Artagnan rather than Porthos helping him but he did not mind. Quite the opposite, in fact. To still have D’Artagnan’s attention focused on him made the parts of his mind that were already trying to come back sink back down once more.

With a glance over his shoulder, D’Artagnan saw that Porthos had helped Athos up as well and was guiding him along behind the two of them. He could see that Athos was a good deal steadier than Aramis so he left him to Porthos’ care and gave his full attention back to his charge. 

Inside their room, he hesitated for a moment then moved over to the bed taking Aramis with him. He quickly stripped down to the skin, no longer wishing to be clothed while his lovers were not. Once he was naked, he crawled onto the far side of the bed and pulled Aramis along after him. At the look of gratitude in Porthos’ eyes, he realized he had made the right decision and settled in, maneuvering Aramis until he rested against him with his head pillowed on his shoulder. 

Following D’Artagnan’s example, Porthos stripped down as well and he and Athos joined the other two in the bed with Athos in the middle next to Aramis. Porthos had expected Aramis to turn to Athos, leaving him and D’Artagnan to bracket the pair. Aramis, however, did not appear to be ready to let go of the boy and practically wound himself around him.

“He will be fine,” D’Artagnan said, hoping to reassure the other two men. He could tell from Porthos’ looks that he was not accustomed to seeing Aramis lose himself so completely. Moreover, he knew that Athos had never witnessed anything like this before. “He is simply not ready to come back yet and I find I do not have the heart to force the issue. He will return to us when he is ready.”

“We trust you, lad,” Porthos said, speaking for them both. “You just tell us if you need us to do anything, alright?”

“Alright,” D’Artagnan agreed. He glanced over at the pair and saw both their worry and their faith in him. It was humbling, to say the least. Looking at Athos, he could also see that he was still coming to grips with everything that had gone on as well. “Athos, are you alright?”

“I… I am fine,” he replied, then amended, “or I will be. I had not expected… such… such intensity. And part of me… well, part of me wonders…”

“Wonders what, love?” Porthos asked when Athos hesitated.

“Wonders just what my brothers must think of me now,” he admitted. He was turned toward Aramis and D’Artagnan, his back to Porthos. That did not prevent him from taking in the man’s reaction to his words. He felt Porthos’ entire body stiff and the arm around his waist tighten. 

“We think no different of you than we did before,” Porthos told him sternly. “Except to be awed by your strength yet again. What you shared with us does not make you weak, brother. A weak man would never have been able to make himself so vulnerable even to those he trusted most.”

“Porthos is right,” D’Artagnan told him. “You are the still the same man you were when you awoke this morning. “That you allowed us to see your vulnerability… your need… is a gift and we do not take it lightly.”

Athos closed his eyes and let their words sink in. It was one of his biggest fears in all of this, that his… perversity… would somehow turn his brothers from him. He knew it was unreasonable, that his brothers would never turn from him, but it was there nonetheless. To have those fears loosened left him almost lightheaded.

“Will Aramis truly be alright?” he asked once he could make himself speak again.

“Yes,” D’Artagnan assured him. 

“I… I can… can come back… if you need…” Aramis managed to get out, forcing more of himself back to alertness. The peace he sought was not worth the thought of his brothers worrying because of him. If Athos needed him to come back to himself then he would do so.

“No,” Athos said at once. “Not if you do not wish to… if you are not ready to. Forgive me, this is so new to me. I fear I do not know quite what to expect and…”

“Peace, Athos,” D’Artagnan said. “As you can see, Aramis is fine. He can return to us if needs must, but he does not as yet wish to so I would not have him do so. As for you, Little One, all is well. You do not have to come back to us until you are ready to. We shall look after you until you are.”

Satisfied with D’Artagnan’s answer, Aramis snuggled back down into his arms and let himself drift. His mind flitted from thought to thought as he let himself be taken care of. In the past, he had never allowed himself to drift so fully. He had never trusted any of his lovers to truly tend to him, to see to his needs and even protect him if necessary. Now, though, he knew he could, for D’Artagnan would never allow him to come to harm. With that thought firmly in the forefront of his mind, he let himself go and let the peace he so often struggled for settle over him like a blanket. 

As D’Artagnan continued to simply hold Aramis, he realized that it might be a while before he was ready to come back. Glancing over at the others, he could see that they were growing tired. “You two can sleep if you wish,” he told them. “I will remain with him until he decides he is ready to come back.”

“You sure, lad?” Porthos asked.

“There is no need for all of us to remain awake,” D’Artagnan reasoned. “He does not need a vigil kept and I will not leave him until I am certain he is fully back with us.”

True to his word, D’Artagnan did not succumb to sleep until Aramis had once more regained his sense of self, at least for the most part. D’Artagnan could tell he was still drifting to a small degree but he knew instinctively that he no longer needed to be concerned or keep quite such a watchful eye on his charge. With that in mind, he allowed his own tiredness to slowly pull him under and was soon sleeping peacefully.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Even though he had been the last to fall asleep, D’Artagnan still awoke first. He attributed it to still being concerned about the state of his lovers, especially Aramis. He was gratified to find him still tucked up against his side, his head pillowed on his chest. 

A few minutes later, D’Artagnan felt Aramis begin to stir. He stayed still, unsure if the other man was simply restless or if he was truly waking. When he blinked his eyes open and looked up at him, D’Artagnan could not help but smile. 

“Hello, Little One,” he said softly and pressed a kiss to Aramis’ forehead. He was curious as to how Aramis would react to the endearment now that they were outside of the scene. He had a suspicion that Aramis was still not completely back even now.

“Hello, Master,” Aramis replied, smiling widely then froze when he realized just what he had said.

“So that’s what you keep struggling not to call me,” D’Artagnan mused. “I wondered. I mean, I could tell it was something from the way you would pause sometimes. Tell me, is it only Porthos’ reaction that holds you back?”

“You said you wished me to call you D’Artagnan,” Aramis replied. He licked his lips nervously and glanced down at the other man’s chest, unable to continue to meet his eyes. 

“I did,” he agreed. He reached out and took Aramis’ chin and pulled his head up so that he was looking at him once more. “But these things are negotiable. If that is what you wish to call me, and it does not upset the others overmuch, then…”

“You indulge me too much,” Aramis said softly.

“You, my Little One, have not been indulged nearly enough. And if I have my way, that _will_ be changing.”

Aramis gasped and gripped him tightly. He buried his face against D’Artagnan’s chest as hot tears stung his eyes. He had never had a lover that had even attempted to give him such a thing. That this man would even consider taking on such a burden solely for his sake left him feeling incredibly humbled.

“Shhh, easy love,” D’Artagnan soothed when he felt Aramis grow distressed. He had not meant to upset him. He continued to simply hold him and waited for him to calm. Once he did, he leaned down and kissed him gently. “Little One, we do need to talk, you and I. Do you feel up to it now or would you rather wait?”

“Now is fine,” he replied. “But we may wake the others.”

“We’re awake,” Porthos said softly. He and Athos had both awoken while the pair was talking. He knew there was something about what Aramis was calling the lad that they all needed to talk about but he had missed that part of the conversation. He did, however, have a couple of ideas of just what that might be. Especially with how nervous Aramis seemed to be about it.

“Porthos…” Aramis began suddenly worried about how much he might have overheard.

“Hush, love. Everything’s fine,” Porthos told him. “You two go and talk. Me and Athos will be right here when you’re done. Then all of us can sit down and talk things out.”

It took a bit of maneuvering, since he and Aramis were on the side of the bed against the wall, but D’Artagnan managed to get them up and out to the sitting room. Even after Porthos’ reassurances, Aramis was visibly nervous, one moment clingy and the next refusing to make eye contact. Sitting down in Athos’ normal spot, he drew his legs up on the divan and spread them then pulled Aramis down between them so that he was once again lying partially on top.

“Are you ready to talk or do you wish to simply sit like this for a while until you are calm again?” D’Artagnan asked, making it clear that he both saw Aramis’ distress and was not going to simply dismiss it. 

“What is it you wish to speak of?” Aramis asked. While he would neither refuse nor deny D’Artagnan anything, he did not wish to presume either. 

“Alright, how about we start with something easy,” D’Artagnan suggested. “Do you mind me calling you Little One?”

“Oh,” Aramis gasped. He had not expected that question and was not prepared for it. “I… I do not mind. Nevertheless, Porthos has no objection to you calling me… other things. You do not need…”

“I was not calling you that for Porthos’ sake,” D’Artagnan interrupted. “Sometimes, yes, you are my Little Slut, but not always. Sometimes… sometimes, you seem much more like my Little One. But if you do not like it, then I will stop.”

“I like it,” Aramis admitted softly. “I just… I did not think you saw **me** that way.”

“You thought I would only see Athos so… affectionately?” D’Artagnan prompted.

“Yes,” Aramis replied. “Your Little One… that is not the purpose I was to serve for you.”

“But is it the purpose you _wish_ to serve for me?” D’Artagnan paused then aware of how much Aramis was struggling. He suspected this was in direct contrast to how these types of encounters typically went for the other man. It saddened him to think to Aramis giving so much of himself to people who would never truly appreciate it, who would never look beyond their own selfish desires to see what it was that **he** might need.

“I wish to please you,” Aramis finally said, falling back on his usual rhetoric in times like these.

“Stop that,” D’Artagnan scolded as gently as he could. “You have no need to play a part with me. I know you wish to please me and you have done, time and again. Now, I would know what would please you in this regard.”

Aramis drew in a breath and held it. When he let it out again, he nodded against D’Artagnan’s chest. “I have never been… that,” he said. “I have been the slut and the whore and… and other things, but I have never been…”

“Precious?” D’Artagnan supplied when Aramis failed to find the words again. “You are, you know. You are precious beyond measure to me, and the others as well.”

“D’Artagnan…”

“I would gladly have you don the mask of slut and whore and whatever else you wish to,” D’Artagnan went on. “But those are only masks I would have you wear. They are not who you are. They are not who I would have you be to me.”

“That… that is your Little One?” Aramis asked. 

“Yes,” D’Artagnan told him bluntly. “But if that is not something you wish as well, then I will not call you that again. You think I do not understand, but I do. I know how much harder it is to be that… to be my Little One that it is to play the part of slut or whore. So if it is asking too much… if I am asking too much… then you need only say and I will stop.”

“How is it that you manage to see into my very soul?” Aramis asked him, his voice rough with emotion. “I have never been anything other than a… a thing to be used at times such as this. Even the women who wished to be on their knees for me only saw me as a means to an end for them. That you think me deserving of such…”

“I think you deserving of every good thing I can give you, Little One,” D’Artagnan told him. “And I would happily devote the rest of my life to doing just that if you would let me.”

“I will disappoint you,” Aramis told him, voicing the fear that clawed at his insides at the very thought of what D’Artagnan was offering.

“You could not possibly.”

“D’Artagnan…”

“And now it is time to discuss that,” D’Artagnan said, changing the subject before Aramis could even attempt to argue. “I do not believe D’Artagnan is what you wish to call me.”

“It is how you wish me to address you,” Aramis argued stubbornly. It was how he had been told to address him from the very first. Aramis should never have presumed to call him anything else. 

“Things change, Little One,” D’Artagnan said as patiently as he could. He understood that this was a great deal for Aramis to try to take in at once. He also understood that the man was still “down” inside of himself and therefore did not have all of his usual defenses. It made getting to the heart of things much easier but it also made it that much easier to cause real harm. 

“No,” Aramis shook his head. “I had no right to address you in such a way.”

D’Artagnan huffed in annoyance but hugged Aramis to him tighter at the same time. “Can you tell me why you fight this so? I know you want it. You would not have slipped and called me such if you did not. Is it just that you do not wish to offend Porthos or is there more to it than that?”

“That is part of it,” Aramis answered. 

“What is the rest?” D’Artagnan asked a bit more firmly this time. “And do not tell me it is because I told you to call me by my name. I have already said that I have no objection.”

Aramis swallowed thickly and ducked his head down even more. D’Artagnan’s tone of voice made it clear that he was getting annoyed and Aramis ached to soothe him. Knowing he had to answer, that failure to do so would only annoy the man further, he took a shuddering breath and tried to explain as best he could. 

“It is a burden,” he whispered. “And one you did not agree to take on. You and I, we know the power of a name. More so than the others, I think. We understand the difference between calling me your little slut and calling me your Little One. We understand the… the responsibility inherent in that for both parties. It is the same, if not more so, if I call you Master rather than D’Artagnan.”

“And you think I would mind this? You think I would turn away from the responsibility of you? Of being your Master?” D’Artagnan asked.

“I think… that it is a great deal to ask,” Aramis told him. “Too much, in fact. You do not wish to take on the responsibility of me. I…”

“You presume too much,” D’Artagnan growled and tightened the arm that held Aramis to him hard enough to make the other man gasp. “You do not tell me what I wish to do, Little One. **I** tell **you**. Now, I will ask you one last time and, if you have any desire to be able to sit today, you will answer me truthfully. What do you _want_ to call me?”

Aramis’ eyes flew up to look at D’Artagnan. He could read the anger on the man’s face but also the resolve. Shaking slightly, he took a breath and then another before laying the truth of his heart bare. “Master,” he whispered. “I wish to call you Master.”

“Alright then,” D’Artagnan said relaxing his grip and running his hand up and down Aramis’ back. “I will speak to Porthos. He may have some reservations but you will let me deal with that.”

“Yes, Master,” Aramis replied. The word tasted forbidden on his tongue and he shuddered at the use of it.

D’Artagnan let out a soft moan at Aramis’ words but showed no other effect. He kept his hand moving up and down the man’s back, caressing him and allowing them both a chance to calm. When he finally felt Aramis settle against him again, he tipped his chin up with his free hand and kissed him.

“There is more we need to discuss but it will need to wait until you are back with me all the way,” D’Artagnan told him. 

“I can come back now if that is what you desire,” Aramis said and began preparing himself for just that. He did not want to return. In truth, he did not think he ever wanted to return, but he knew that was merely a fantasy. 

“I have no wish to rush you,” D’Artagnan said. “Though if Athos and Porthos should come out and find you still ‘down’ they may start to panic a bit. Athos has never seen you like this and I do not believe Porthos has ever seen you down for this long before… or this deeply.”

“Neither have you,” Aramis pointed out, “and yet you seem to be coping quite well.”

“I trust you,” D’Artagnan said. “And I trust my instincts. I know, if I needed to, I could pull you out. That is enough for me.”

“Still, you are correct,” Aramis said, allowing more of himself to rise back up inside of him. “There are things we still need to discuss. I dare say how deeply I went this time being chief amongst them.”

“You are not wrong,” D’Artagnan grinned. “But you did not have to force yourself to come back. I would have waited.”

“I know,” Aramis told him. He leaned up then and kissed the younger man, letting him know through his actions that he was truly back with him now. “But it was time.”

“As you say,” D’Artagnan said, unwilling to argue. If Aramis said it was time for him to return then he would take him at his word. “So am I to understand that you do not normally allow yourself to sink so deep?”

“I have _never_ allowed myself to sink as deeply, nor for as long, as I did with you.”

D’Artagnan took a moment to take that in then nodded. “Was it intentional on your part or did you just suddenly find yourself deeper than you meant to go and not want to return?”

“Hmmm… that is… hard to say,” Aramis admitted. “It was not really intentional but I also could have stopped it at any time.”

“So an experiment then?” 

“I suppose one could say that.” Aramis hesitated then made himself ask. “Are you upset with me for it?”

“Why would you think that?” D’Artagnan frowned.

“Because I did not ask your permission. I could have stopped. I knew I was going deep… too deep really, but… I didn’t want to.”

“Aramis, I knew what was happening. Moreover, I also knew I could pull you out of it any time I chose to. I simply… did not choose to. You were safe. You were happy. I saw no need to take that from you.”

“I should have asked first,” Aramis argued.

“And if you had known that was a possibility you would have,” D’Artagnan told him. “As you said, you had never gone so deep before. That you felt safe enough with me to do so, well, I consider that an honor.”

“You should not make excuses for me,” Aramis groused.

“I do not,” D’Artagnan told him. “Just as I do not allow you to shoulder unnecessary blame. There is one other thing I would like to discuss with you about it, though.”

“Of course,” Aramis said at once, eager for his lover… his Master to understand so much about this part of himself. 

“When you were down you seemed…,” D’Artagnan began carefully. “Not _younger_ , but…”

“Smaller?” Aramis offered. He could hear the concern in his lover’s voice and understood. For all of their play, D’Artagnan had no wish to take advantage of Aramis in any way. He needed to know that even subverted though it was, Aramis’ sense of self was not so compromised as to make him unable to consent.

“That’s one word for it, I suppose,” D’Artagnan replied, not wanting to lead Aramis’ answers in this.

“I do not regress, D’Artagnan,” Aramis assured him, smiling softly at the younger man’s concern. “I am not younger nor am I compromised in any way. I am still capable of saying no if I truly do not wish something.”

“Are you?” D’Artagnan pressed. “Or more precisely, would you?”

“Astute as always,” Aramis mused. “For those are two very different questions. The answer to the first is a resounding yes. The answer to the second, however, is not always so clear.”

“Aramis…”

“Let me try to explain,” Aramis cut in, trying to diffuse the situation before the lad’s overprotective streak got riled up. “When I am down, especially when I am very far down, my will is no longer my own. It belongs to my Master. Granted, I have not allowed myself to actually achieve such a state before but the potential was always there if I should ever find someone both willing enough and trustworthy enough to allow such a thing.

“With my will no longer my own, my own wants and desires become of no consequence. It is why I said it did not matter if I found release or not regardless of the fact that I was aroused to the point of actual pain.”

“What?” D’Artagnan gasped. He pulled Aramis back from his slightly so he could at him more clearly. The guilty expression he saw there told him that he was telling the truth, he had been in actual pain but had not bothered to tell them and would not have done anything about it if he had not told him that he wanted him to spend. 

“It did not matter,” Aramis told him. “My own pleasure was secondary… tertiary even… to that of the rest of you.”

“Aramis,” D’Artagnan practically growled again then forced out a laugh. “Do not do that again. When your arousal starts to become uncomfortable you are to tell me so that I might gauge when you need to spend. Understood?”

“Yes, D’Artagnan,” Aramis replied.

“It still sounds like you say that just to see if you can make me lose control,” D’Artagnan muttered. Deciding they had talked quite enough for now, he reached down, hooked his hands under Aramis’ armpits and pulled the man up his body until they were lying face to face. Letting one hand trail through his hair, he caressed his beard with the other before pulling him into a deep kiss.


	54. Chapter 54

Part 54

“You are more concerned than you are letting on,” Athos said once he and Porthos were alone.

“I’m fine,” Porthos said absently. He did not want Athos to worry. He knew the Whelp would take care of Aramis. He was just a bit worried about where this new direction seemed to be leading him. He knew about the games Aramis liked to play. He even knew how much more Aramis craved from those encounters than he got. What worried him was what might happen should that change. 

“Please do not lie to me,” Athos said softly. “If you do not wish to speak of it then we will not, but at least do me the courtesy of being honest with me.”

At Athos words, Porthos scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “I am sorry,” he apologized. “You are right. I am worried but it is nothing you need concern yourself with. Merely my insecurities making themselves known once more.”

“Are you certain?” Athos pressed. “For I do not think you are. Something about Aramis’ behavior has you worried but I cannot tell if you are worried for him or for yourself.”

“In truth? I am worried for all of us,” he admitted. “Aramis’ desires… they can be difficult to control. He longs for certain things. What the lad gave him, that is the closest he has ever come to what he has truly desired.”

“And this causes you worry. Why?” Athos asked.

“Because I fear what might happen if the boy continues to give in to his desires. And I fear what might happen if he does not.”

“I do not understand,” Athos frowned. He did not understand what Porthos was so worried about. Surely D’Artagnan being able to give Aramis something he craved so much was a good thing.

“I fear how it might change him,” Porthos tried to explain. “He has never before lost himself so completely. What if, next time, he does not want to come back?”

“You do not truly believe that, do you?” Athos asked.

“You saw how he was,” Porthos countered. “You saw how he clung to the boy, how he…”

“Porthos,” Athos interrupted gently. “He will not leave us. Not of his own free will. He may go away for a brief while but he will always return to us. The peace he seeks is not more precious to him than we are.”

“You sound so sure of this,” Porthos said. He wanted nothing more than to believe what Athos was saying. He could not stand the thought of Aramis retreating inside of himself where he could not reach him. 

“I am,” Athos told him. “Above all else, Aramis loves _you_. The only thing that will take him from your side is death. And even that will have to fight for him.”

Porthos turned onto his side so that he was facing Athos and kissed him. He felt the horrible knot of fear inside him loosen at Athos’ calm assurance. He knew he would still have his moments of doubt but he would do his best to trust in Athos… and in Aramis.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“May I come in?” D’Artagnan asked from the doorway. He looked at Athos and Porthos lying on the bed together and smiled. It was good to see them having some time for the two of them. They rarely got that other than for training these days.

“Sure,” Porthos said, sitting up and pulling Athos with him. He felt a bit of his earlier fear come back and gripped Athos’ hand.

With a grin, D’Artagnan sat down on the far end of the bed. With the two beds in the room there was not much space left for any other furniture. As he looked at the pair, he could tell that Porthos was nervous and reached out to squeeze his knee. 

“I wanted to speak with you about Aramis if that’s alright,” D’Artagnan said. 

“Is everything alright?” Porthos asked, unable to stop himself from glancing toward the door for their missing fourth.

“All is well, Porthos. I just wanted to speak with you alone first. Aramis is awaiting us in the sitting room.”

“Sorry, lad,” Porthos said, embarrassed at his display.

“There is no need for that,” D’Artagnan assured him. “First let me ease your mind by saying that Aramis is fine. He is back to himself again so there is no need for concern.”

“That is good,” Athos replied. “I was… that is… I had not expected such a reaction from him. And certainly not for so long.”

“I understand,” D’Artagnan said with a nod. “I was caught off guard a bit as well. Even Aramis was surprised by how deep he went. But you should understand, I saw what was happening and I could have stopped it at any time. I chose not to.”

“Why?” Porthos asked. He had thought the boy had been caught unawares until it was too late. He had not realized that he had seen what was happening and simply allowed it to continue.

“Because it did no harm,” D’Artagnan explained. “Not to him nor to anyone else. Why should I have denied him something he so obviously craved?”

“I see your point,” Porthos conceded. “Just… seems a mite dangerous is all. What if…”

“What if what?” D’Artagnan asked.

“What if he didn’t want to come back?” It was the same question Porthos had posed to Athos. And while Porthos believed Athos’ answer, he wanted to hear the boy’s take on it. 

“You are not honestly suggesting that Aramis would willfully leave us, are you?” D’Artagnan scoffed. “That he would leave any of us is preposterous, but to suggest that he would leave _you_ is… is insulting.”

Porthos had the good graces to look away at that. He had not meant to give offense, especially to Aramis. He was not questioning his lover’s faithfulness… except that he was. Hanging his head, he closed his eyes for a moment before raising it once more and looking at the young man across from him. 

“I apologize,” he said. “I did not mean to give offense. I would never be so crass as to question Aramis’ loyalty or his love. That my words made it seem as such, I can only blame on my fear of losing him.”

“Peace, brother,” D’Artagnan said and leaned forward enough to take Porthos’ free hand in his own. “I did not mean to sound so angry. Forgive me.”

“My fault, lad,” Porthos told him, returning the grip on his hand tightly.

“Do you still feel up to talking now or would you rather wait?” D’Artagnan asked, worried for the other man.

“I’ll be fine,” he told him. “I’d rather talk now and get it over with if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” D’Artagnan replied. He let go of Porthos’ hand and sat back once more. “As I said, Aramis is fine. We shall join him in the sitting room shortly, but I would speak to you of some things first.

“We have already discussed how deep he went. I believe we should wait to discuss that any further until Aramis is with us. You know now that I can and will bring him out of it if necessary. Hopefully, that will help to ease your minds a bit.”

“It does,” Athos said, speaking for both of them. The knowledge that D’Artagnan was not only aware of what was going on but was able to counteract it if needed was a great relief to him. He suspected it was just as much, if not even more of a relief to Porthos as well.

“Alright then. The only other thing we need to discuss among us is… well…” D’Artagnan trailed off then, suddenly unsure how to broach the subject with the other two. 

“This about what he wants to call you now?” Porthos asked, guessing as to the nature of the younger man’s sudden apprehension. 

“Yes,” D’Artagnan said with a huff. 

“And just what would that be?” Athos asked when D’Artagnan failed to enlighten them.

“Master,” D’Artagnan said softly, his eyes locked on Porthos in an attempt to gauge the man’s reaction. He need not have bothered. Porthos’ sharply indrawn breath coupled with the way he jerked back, as if D’Artagnan’s very words scalded him, told him everything he needed.

“I will speak to Aramis,” D’Artagnan said after a rather tense moment of silence between the three of them. “He will not speak this way in your presence. If you wish it, please tell me and he will not use the term at all.”

“Wait,” Porthos ground out, silencing D’Artagnan. He was breathing hard and gripping Athos’ hand even harder but the other man was not complaining so Porthos did not let go. 

“He will not cause you harm in this,” D’Artagnan said softly when Porthos remained silent. “He would never do anything to willingly hurt you and it is quite clear that even the thought of this…”

“I said wait!” Porthos snapped again and glared at D’Artagnan until the boy snapped his own mouth shut. Once it was clear that he was not going to say anything else, Porthos took another deep breath and tried to relax. 

“I got a problem with that word,” Porthos began. “I always have. You gotta understand, my mother was a slave. But I know Aramis… that’s not the way he means it. Not really. And I know it’s not the way you mean it either.”

“We will not hurt you in this,” D’Artagnan said again. He knew he was risking Porthos’ ire but he did not care. He would not allow his brother to suffer needlessly.

“I know, Whelp,” Porthos said with a ghost of a grin. “Just give me some time. I can get used to it. Or try to anyway.”

D’Artagnan looked at him for long moments, trying to decide. In the end, he knew he would be doing Porthos more harm than good by refusing to trust him to know his own heart. With a nod, he agreed, but he would be keeping a close eye on things and if it became clear that it was causing him too much distress then it would stop. There were other things Aramis could call him. They would simply have to find one that worked for all of them.

“May I ask something?” Athos put in once it seemed that the matter was settled.

“What is it?” D’Artagnan replied.

“You called Aramis ‘Little One’ when we were together. Is this something that you plan to continue?”

“Yes,” D’Artagnan told him. “He… he does not mind and…”

“And?” Athos prompted.

“And he is. My Little One, that is,” D’Artagnan replied with a shrug. He was careful to appear unconcerned about it but he was anything but. He had no idea how Athos would react to such a revelation. He did not seem to object to the relationship between himself and Aramis but this was a step further still and D’Artagnan found himself once again worried about overstepping boundaries.

“I see,” Athos replied noncommittally. 

“You… you have an objection?” D’Artagnan asked. There was no hiding the worry in his voice. He did not know what he would do if Athos took exception to this. 

“No,” Athos told him, smiling softly at him. He could see the near panic in D’Artagnan’s eyes and hated that the young man could still fear their reactions so. “I may have some few concerns but I do not object to the relationship between you, whatever form that might take.”

“I do not mean…”

“So help me, boy, if you say one word about _oversteppin’_ , you’ll be the one gettin’ his backside tanned,” Porthos growled when D’Artagnan started to reply. 

The younger man closed his mouth with an audible click, his face blushing hotly at Porthos’ threat. He looked down at the duvet covering the bed then gathered his courage and returned his gaze to Athos. “You have concerns?”

“Only in that you know what you are letting yourself in for,” Athos said. “And what you are committing to. I would see neither of you hurt, especially by the other.”

D’Artagnan smiled then. “I know what I’m committing to, Athos,” he promised. “He is precious to me and I will treat him as such for the remainder of my days or until he… outgrows me.”

“Whelp…” 

“You need not worry for me. Either of you,” D’Artagnan continued. “I am not so naïve as to think that what Aramis needs now will always be so. If there comes a time when he no longer needs me, when he no longer **wants** me, then I will let him go. First and foremost, he is my brother. _That_ will never change.” 

“And you could do that?” Athos pressed, unable to believe what the younger man was saying. 

“Yes,” D’Artagnan replied evenly. “Make no mistake, love. It would break my heart in ways that would likely never mend, but I could do it. I would do it, if that was what he needed of me.”

“Lad, you can’t…”

“Yes, I can,” D’Artagnan argued when Porthos made to object. “But I do not think it will come to that. Not entirely at least. Our relationship may change over time but I do not think he will ever push me away completely. And even if he does, he will always be my brother.”

Leaving the two to dress, D’Artagnan returned to the sitting room where Aramis was waiting. He found him standing beside the fireplace, the tenseness of his back giving testament to his own worry. Moving up behind him, he slid his arms around his waist and hooked his chin over his shoulder. 

“Everything alright?” Aramis asked, his voice betraying none of the turmoil he felt inside.

“All is well, Precious,” D’Artagnan whispered as he kissed the side of his neck. “Did I not tell you I would see to it?”

“You did,” Aramis whispered back, his knees suddenly weak from the combination of the D’Artagnan’s soft kisses and the endearment. 

“Mmm…” D’Artagnan all but purred as he continued to hold him. “I could get quite used to this.”

“Could you now?”

“Oh yes. Much easier than trying to channel the Musketeer inside of me while naked.”

Aramis could not hold back the snort of laughter that mental image invoked. He quickly sobered however when he realized just what D’Artagnan had meant. “Is that how you do it?” he asked. “How you control us so well?”

“Yes,” D’Artagnan said. “It’s the only way I know how really. It’s quite the dichotomy – to call forth a part of myself normally reserved for acts of violence with my lovers.”

Aramis stiffened and tried to turn to face him but D’Artagnan tightened his hold and refused to allow it. He settled both hands on the arms around his waist and held on. “If this is too much for you, you have but to tell us,” Aramis said. 

“It is not too much,” D’Artagnan told him. “It is different and sometimes difficult but it is not more than I can bear. And I would not willingly give up being your Master for anything in this world, Little One.”

“Should be perhaps give you more time?” Athos asked from the doorway where he and Porthos had stopped. They had taken one look at the pair wrapped around each other, talking softly and paused, not wanting to interrupt what appeared to be a private moment.

“No,” D’Artagnan said as he stepped back from Aramis but did not let go of him entirely. “We were just talking while we waited for you.”

“Are you certain?” Porthos asked. “Seemed a might… closer than that.”

“It was personal, if that is what you are getting at,” D’Artagnan replied. “But it was not something we would not share with you both. If it will ease your mind to know, I was speaking to him about how odd it felt to draw upon the Musketeer inside of me when I was with my lovers.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel you had to explain yourself to me,” Porthos said.

“There is no need for that. We are all finding our way in this. If you have questions or concerns, I would have you voice them rather than leave them to fester.”

“You’re a good man, D’Artagnan,” Porthos said. “A far better man than some of us deserve at times. But let us not have that argument right now. Think we’ve got other things we need to talk about, don’t you?”

“Indeed,” Athos said. Taking Porthos’ hand, he led him into the room and over to the divan. They hesitated a moment when they reached it then situated themselves in their normal places, leaving the middle free for D’Artagnan and Aramis. At least this way the two could still be next to each other, as Aramis seemed to want.

Once Athos and Porthos were settled, D’Artagnan and Aramis moved to join them. D’Artagnan sat next to Athos and Aramis sat beside Porthos. They kept a bit of space between them simply to ensure that they gave their other lovers their full attention. Aside from that, D’Artagnan knew if he had Aramis in his arms he would be more prone to defending him and that was not what was needed right now.

“You do not have to distance yourselves from each other,” Athos said, frowning at the deliberate space between them. 

“We don’t begrudge you the comfort you find in each other,” Porthos added. He, too, found the deliberate gap disturbing. 

“We know,” D’Artagnan said. “But we are here to talk and you deserve our undivided attention. Besides, if I have him in my arms I will… react… more strongly.”

“React?” Porthos repeated, not quite understanding what he meant.

“I will protect him,” D’Artagnan said bluntly. “Whether there is anything to actually protect him _from_ or not.”

“Lad, that is one thing I am never going to fault you on,” Porthos told him. “You go right on protectin’ him from everyone and everything that so much as looks at him hard.”

“Porthos, do not encourage him,” Aramis whined. “He is going to get himself hurt, or worse, if he keeps on with this.” 

“Like he said, that’s what he’s got brothers for,” Porthos countered.

“I fear I have missed a conversation somewhere,” Athos put in.

“Oh ‘twas nothing,” Aramis said airily. “Just D’Artagnan threatening grievous bodily harm to any man who dared raise a hand to me.”

“D’Artagnan,” Athos began sternly, “you will, of course, bring Porthos and I _with_ you when you go about this, yes?”

“As you say,” D’Artagnan grinned, sharp and predatory.

“Very good then,” Athos replied with a mirroring smile.

“I am surrounded by overprotective…” Aramis began. 

“Men who love you very much,” Porthos finished for him. 

“So,” Athos began before the conversation could get sidetracked once more. “D’Artagnan spoke to us a bit about how things went. You were… satisfied… with the outcome?”

“Very much so,” Aramis replied earnestly. “I… I know I worried everyone. That was not my intention. I did not mean to go so… so deep. If that troubles you, I will try my best not to do so in the future.”

“Aramis, no,” Athos said. “It is not that. I was simply surprised. As D’Artagnan has said, we are all still finding our way in this. While I am not an innocent, I do not have much experience in these matters. I know that you find enjoyment in them. And, from what I saw, some great measure of peace when they are done correctly. I would not take that from you, brother, but I would like to better understand.” 

“Then ask your questions and let us help you to understand,” D’Artagnan said, “and know that at any time, if you truly feel distressed or that **Aramis** is in distress, that you have but to tell me and I **will** bring him out of it. No matter how deep he goes, he will respond to me, Athos. I dare say, he will respond to you and Porthos, as well. He may be down, but he is still our Aramis and he will never truly leave us, not completely.”

“Thank you,” Athos said. “That alone relieves many of my fears. I can see the appeal, to go, even for a little while, to a place of peace. If I had it within myself to do so, I would be tempted to do the same.”

“Do you wish…?” Aramis began.

“No,” Athos shook his head. “I do not think I could even begin to try. That sort of submission is something I will never be able to achieve. Not all of us are as strong as you, brother.”

“You think me strong? For this?” Aramis asked, stunned. If anything, he had expected the opposite. 

“I think you one of the strongest men I have ever known. You have endured things that would drive a lesser man to his knees, yet you have only ever gone to yours of your own accord. Do you not know that when I am at my weakest, I look to you for the strength to persevere?”

“Athos…”

“Easy, love,” Porthos said as he wrapped his arms around Aramis and held him. Athos’ words had affected him as well and he buried his head against Aramis’ neck to keep the others from seeing it. When he could speak without his voice breaking, he kissed Aramis on the side of the neck and sat back again. 

“Athos is not the only one who thinks you strong, love,” Porthos told him. “Nor is he the only one who draws his strength from you. Your devotion has been a source of strength to me for years. I may not necessarily believe in that God of yours, but _your_ belief, your devotion to Him, _that_ gives _me_ faith.”

“I am just a man,” Aramis whispered, awed by his brothers’ words and unsure how to respond. 

“Yes,” D’Artagnan said. “But you are **our** man and our devotion to you is as absolute as yours to God. Blasphemous as that may be to admit.”  
Aramis felt hot tears sting his eyes and had to close them to try to keep his emotions in check. “Do you have any idea how very much I love you all?” he rasped after a moment, his voice choked by the tears he struggled to hold inside.

“As much as we love you,” Porthos told him.

“Just so,” Athos agreed.

“Little One,” D’Artagnan called softly when Aramis failed to open his eyes after a few minutes had passed. “Are you alright?”

“Oh,” Aramis gasped. “Ma…”

“It’s alright,” Porthos told him. “Whelp told us what you wanted to call him. Can’t say that it may not make me flinch a time or two but I’ll get used to it.”

“I will not do this if it will cause you pain,” Aramis said. “I would never do anything to willfully hurt you.”

“Think I don’t know that?” Porthos scoffed. “And I know you don’t mean it in those kinda ways. The bad ways. I know it means something else between you and the Whelp. Kinda like me callin’ him Whelp doesn’t mean I don’t respect him, don’t think he’s a man grown, it’s just my name for him. It means somethin’ to us.”

“Are you certain?” Aramis asked, still unsure.

“I’m sure,” Porthos told him. “Look, I promise to tell you if it starts botherin’ me too much. How’s that?”

“Fair enough, I suppose,” Aramis agreed. He hesitated a moment then asked the other question that was weighing on him. “And it does not bother you that he calls me his Little One?”

“Nah,” Porthos said and grinned. “Does my heart glad to see the lad treating you like you deserve.”

“I concur,” Athos put in. “You are precious to all of us. My only concern was that D’Artagnan understand the depth of commitment he was taking on. He has assured me that he does and I believe it to be true.”

Aramis studied Athos for a moment. He could see there was something else that the man was holding back. “Why do I sense more to that statement than you are saying?”

“There is no more,” Athos told him. “My concern was that he understood the, dangers shall we say. I am satisfied that he does.”

“Athos…”

Athos sighed. “You are not the only one in danger of being hurt in all of this. I only sought to make sure he was aware of the danger to his own heart. He is and has chosen his actions fully aware of where the outcome might lead.”

“And where is that?” Aramis pressed, looking at D’Artagnan, his eyes filled with sudden worry.

“Athos is worried that I will end up with my heart broken if there ever comes a day when you decide you no longer wish to be my Little One. I was, however, aware of this long before he said anything.”

“You think I would hurt you?”

“No,” D’Artagnan replied. He took Aramis’ hands and pulled him from Porthos’ loose grip and into his own arms. “But people change, as do their needs. There may come a time when you need to no longer be my Little One. If that happens, then I will let you go. Or at least that part of you. And yes, it will hurt, but it is a risk I am willing to take.”

“I never wish to hurt you,” Aramis whispered into his chest, his voice barely loud enough for the three of them to hear.

“I know that,” D’Artagnan told him. “But that does not change the fact that it could happen. If it does, it does. We will not live our lives in fear of some unknown future. I would much rather cherish each and every moment I have with you.

“I will do what is best for you, Aramis. Always and ever. Just as always and ever will you be my brother. That will _never_ change. No matter if you are my Little One or not, if you are my lover or not. Being my brother, that is a fate you cannot escape. In that, we are bound.”

They stayed where they were, giving Aramis time to digest everything that had been said. Athos had not meant to upset him so but there was nothing to be done for it now. While D’Artagnan truly hoped that the day never came where he had to give up his Little One, he knew it was a possibility, especially as Aramis continued to heal from all he had endured. The stronger and more confident he grew in his relationships with Athos and Porthos, the more likely it was that his Little One would come to need him less and less. It was a bittersweet realization but one D’Artagnan’s honor would not allow him to turn away from. 

“So, uh, while we’re all here and talkin’ about all of this,” Porthos began a bit hesitantly, “is there, well, anything _else_ you… either of you… are wanting that we’re not giving you?”

D’Artagnan helped Aramis to sit back up so and looked back and forth between him and Athos. When neither man volunteered anything, he decided to see if he could prompt them. “Well, I know Porthos mentioned Aramis enjoying being spanked. I would like to get some more details about that. And, well, based on something else Aramis said, I have a couple of ideas about some things.”

“Aramis likes to be hit?” Athos asked, not sure how much he liked the idea.

“Spanked,” D’Artagnan corrected. “I made that mistake myself the first time Porthos said it. I thought he meant he liked to be, well… beaten. But he assured me it’s nothing like that.”

“There is a difference?”

“Yeah, brother,” Porthos replied before Aramis could. “A bloody big difference. I’m not much into it myself, unless I’m the one giving the spanking, but even then there’s a difference. It’s not about really hurting your lover. Oh, there’s some pain and such, but nothing like a beating. Personally, if my lover ends up with bruises, I feel like I overdid it.”

“From what I gather,” D’Artagnan added, “it seems to be more to heighten the pleasurable sensations. To give an opposing sensation. If that makes any sense.”

“Rather like cold water on a burn?” Athos mused, trying to understand. “The prior pain of the burn making the cold water feel all the better?”

“Something like that,” Aramis answered. “There is also the element of submission that plays into it as well. For me, it is another method of giving myself over. Even my pain is no longer my own.”

“Are pain and submission the only things you get from it?” D’Artagnan asked.

“Mostly,” Aramis answered slowly, rather surprised by the question. He had not expected D’Artagnan with his relative inexperience to grasp any of the other nuances of such a thing yet.

“If you would rather not speak of this now, we do not have to,” D’Artagnan told him.

“No, no that is not it,” Aramis said then grinned. “You merely surprised me. I forgot how very astute you can be at times and was not expecting such a question. To answer you, the pain and submission are mostly what I get from it but there are other things at times. It… depends. If I am being punished, for example, or if I am being purposely humiliated.”

“I was not aware you enjoyed humiliation,” D’Artagnan said, deciding to leave the punishment aspect alone for now.

“I do not, as such.”

“But you have endured it,” D’Artagnan said, his voice going flat as he tried to keep his anger at the thought in check. 

“Yes,” Aramis replied. “I have had lovers in the past who have enjoyed… debasing me to one degree or another.”

“I don’t suppose you would be willing to give me their names?” D’Artagnan asked.

“Hah! No,” Aramis replied. “Trust that I will not be allowing such ever again. Unless, of course, one of you wishes to do such a thing. I would be more than willing…”

“For fuck’s sake, do not finish that statement,” Porthos snarled. “If you do not like something, we are not going to do it.”

“Aramis…” Athos began then trailed off. He took a deep breath and tried again. “Love, what Porthos said is true. If you do not like something, we are not going to do it. I must admit, I find myself agreeing with D’Artagnan’s sentiment and wishing for the names of those who have treated you so.”

“And I shall tell you what I told him. No,” Aramis replied. While he could not understand this seemingly overwhelming need to protect him, especially from hurts of his **past** , he found it oddly warming.

“Aramis, do you… when I… when I called you slut… did that…” D’Artagnan stammered, unable to even get the words out at the thought that he had hurt the other man in some way. He had thought Aramis had enjoyed it, but the man was a consummate actor and could have easily been acting how he thought D’Artagnan wanted him to.

“Oh no, love, no!” Aramis rushed to reassure him. “That… that did not humiliate me. That was… I _liked_ that. That is not the sort of thing that I would find debasing.”

“If that isn’t something you would find humiliating then what is?” Porthos asked.

“I would rather not say,” Aramis replied softly. He folded his hands in his lap and looked down, unable to meet the eyes of his lovers. One of the last things he wanted was for any of them to know the things he had allowed to be done to him. While he did not think they would turn from him because of them, he knew the knowledge would change the way they looked at him. 

“Then we shall not ask again,” D’Artagnan said firmly, making it clear that he expected the other men to let the subject drop. If Aramis wanted to talk about it then he would be the one to bring it up.

Aramis’ head jerked up at that and he looked at his Master with a mixture of disbelief and gratitude. He could not believe that they were simply going to let this go. They never let things like this go. One look at the younger man’s face made it clear that he intended for it to be just that way and that he would do whatever was necessary to ensure that the others complied. 

“Thank you, Master,” Aramis replied and bowed his head.

“None of that now, Little One,” D’Artagnan said as he tilted his head back up by his chin. “Don’t hide from us. We all want to be able to see your pretty face.”

“Yes, D’Artagnan,” Aramis replied, grinning slightly.

“Brat,” D’Artagnan said and leaned forward to kiss him lightly on the lips. “Do we need to talk about punishment?”

“We can,” Aramis said. “I… sometimes I need… it is not something I do on purpose…”

“Peace, love,” D’Artagnan told him. “If it is something you feel you need sometimes then that is all you need say. You do not need to act out in order to get it. You need only come to one me or to Porthos and tell us. We will always take care of you, Aramis.”

“I know,” Aramis said. “But I am not sure how Athos would react to such a thing.”

Athos opened his mouth to respond then closed it again. He thought for a moment then tried again. “I will never find enjoyment in watching you be hurt,” he said. “No matter that it is something you want or feel you need. No matter that it is delivered by D’Artagnan or Porthos and therefore of no true danger. But that does not mean that I would deny you. I will never deny you something you want, so long as it does you no true harm.”

“You all make far too many sacrifices for me,” Aramis said.

“Not so long ago, seems like a whole lot of sacrifices got made for my sake,” Porthos replied. “We make sacrifices for each other, brother. That’s what families do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This kind of went off on a tangent or two. Oops.


	55. Chapter 55

Part 55

“I shall miss this place,” Athos said as they sat in front of the fire. He felt the other still near him then heard Aramis sigh.

“I believe we all shall,” he said. “It has become home to us in a way that men such as we do not often find.”

“True,” D’Artagnan said thoughtfully. “But I must wonder if it is truly this place that has become home or the men that have been living here.”

“Astute as ever,” Aramis smiled and nodded. “But I shall still miss it. It is not often I have a library of my own.”

“We’ll buy you all the books we can, love,” Porthos promised. 

“And wherever will we put them?” Aramis laughed. “The barracks are not so large as to accommodate such things. Besides, I doubt I will have much time for reading once we return to duty.”

“Indeed,” Athos replied, though his voice was markedly lacking in enthusiasm.

“Brother?” Porthos queried, concerned by Athos’ tone.

Before Athos could reply, D’Artagnan held up his hand and tilted his head as if listening. Suddenly he was on his feet and moving toward the row of pegs where their weapons hung. “A rider’s coming,” he said as he grabbed his sword belt and quickly fastened it in place.

“It could be anyone,” Athos said as he moved to do the same, handing Aramis his pistols as he did so.

“In all the time we have been here, we have seen neither hide nor hair of anyone,” Porthos said. He gave his own weapons a final check and moved to follow D’Artagnan out to the front yard. 

By the time Treville rode up to the house, all four men were standing in the front yard. While they had not taken the time to don their leathers, they were armed, their hands resting on the hilts of their weapons. Or, in Aramis’ case, on the handles of his pistols. 

“Were you expecting someone else?” he asked, unable to completely hide the smirk from his voice. 

“Our apologies, sir,” Athos said. “We were not _expecting_ anyone, hence our… vigilance.”

“Fair enough,” Treville said as he dismounted. When the four of them failed to move he sighed and shook his head. “Do you think we could, perhaps, move this conversation inside?”

“Of course, sir,” Athos said smartly, snapping the lot of them out of their surprise. 

D’Artagnan moved forward then and took the Captain’s horse from him. “Shall I turn him out with the others?” 

“No, lad,” Treville said. “I’m afraid I won’t be staying that long. Just hitch him up and come join us. I need to talk to you boys.”

D’Artagnan paused for a second then took the reins and began leading the Captain’s horse to the hitching post. He glanced at the others and saw that they had all paled, to one degree or another, at their Captain’s words.

As his horse was led away, Treville headed inside with the other three following obediently behind. Once they were inside, the trio hung their weapons back up and returned to the sitting room. They hesitated just inside the room, unsure exactly how to situate themselves that would not force their Captain to ask unwelcome questions. 

“Gentlemen, my eyes may be starting to fail me but I am not yet so blind as to not see what is right in front of my face,” Treville said not unkindly, as he sat down in the lone chair positioned across from the divan. It was the one D’Artagnan used to occupy before finally joining them. 

“Sir,” Athos stiffened. “It… it is not that.”

“No?” 

“No, sir,” D’Artagnan said as he walked into the room. He had heard them as he walked back in from seeing to Treville’s horse. “But we have no desire to remove whatever small amount of protection your… forgive me sir, your ignorance affords you.”

Treville looked at his men and ran his hand over his face. He could not believe these foolish boys were trying to protect an old man. “Sit down, the lot of you,” he said and gestured toward the divan. Once they were seated, he pinned Athos with a look he usually reserved for the aftermath of their more reckless escapades.

“Are you absolutely sure about what you are doing?” he asked gravely, leaving no question as to exactly what he was referring to.

Athos hesitated and glanced at his brothers… his lovers… then looked back at Treville. “Yes, sir. We are all quite sure,” he said. “Do you… that is… do you have a problem with our… status?”

“Only in that it puts you all in danger,” he replied. “A danger there is very little I can do to shield you from. You will need to be vigilant. Even more so than you normally are. And if the day ever comes when you must flee, well, trust that I shall have plans in place to see you safely out of Paris and all of France, if necessary.”

“Sir?” Athos said, unable to believe that Treville would go to so much trouble for them. He knew that he protected his men, but this went so far beyond that.

“Make no mistake, this is not the life I would have chosen for you. Not for any of you. However, it is the life you have chosen for yourselves and I must respect that for I have nothing but respect for the men that you are.”

“Captain,” Aramis began slowly, as if struggling to find the right words. “If our being in the regiment will make problems for you…”

“Aramis,” Treville shook his head angrily. “You are the finest soldiers, the finest _men_ , I have ever served with. That you must hide who you chose to love simply to be allowed to do so is an affront to me, but it is the world we live in.” 

“Thank you, sir,” Porthos said, speaking up for the first time. “You know how much respect I have for you. You know how much being a Musketeer means to me. But these men, sir, they mean even more.”

“That, Porthos, I am well aware of,” Treville replied. “Just as I am aware that it is the same for each of them as well. Even young D’Artagnan, regardless of his _status_ within your… brotherhood, shall we say, will not be parted from your side by anything short of death.”

“Sir, if ever… if ever we **do** become a liability to you or the regiment you have but to tell us,” Athos said. “We have served you well and we would do so again but if there does come a time when the cost is too great, you only have to say the word.”

“Athos, I promise, you will know of the danger, the threat, long before that time actually comes. And now, one final thing. The Estate de Treville had stood empty for a decade before the lot of you brought life to it once more. I would not see it do so again. Therefore, the deed is now yours. I was unsure what you would wish to call it so I have left that up to you.”

“Captain, we can’t…” Athos began only for Treville to cut him off.

“Of course you can,” Treville said, his tone brooking no argument. “You are the closest thing to sons I will ever be blessed to have. I would see this place go to you before I would see it lay in ruin. Let it provide you a haven when you have need of it. And, heaven forbid the time should ever come, let it provide you with the means necessary to see yourself safely away.

“Now, as I have not seen the place in so very long, I believe I shall take a walk about the grounds before I return to the garrison,” he said as he stood. “Take some time and think things over. Decide what it is you truly want to do. The life of a soldier is a difficult one, filled with danger and pain and, too often, death. If you wish to be Musketeers again, the regiment will be there waiting for you, but I will understand if you should wish a different path.”

They saw Treville off then returned to the kitchen still a bit stunned by the turn of events. While Athos may have been gentry before, this was all quite new to the others. Even Athos was having trouble grasping it, as once again owning an estate was not something he had ever considered. 

“Bloody hell,” Porthos said breaking the shocked silence and actually making Aramis start.

“I am as stunned as you, Porthos,” Athos said. “After ridding myself of my estate and lands I never thought to own another.”

The other three looked at him then trying to gauge his feelings on the matter. They knew all of his secrets in regards to his former wife, including why he had walked away from everything. They were not at all sure he was ready, or even able, to resume anything even resembling that.

“If this is too much,” Aramis began, “we do not have to take it. I can explain to the Captain. He will understand...”

“No,” Athos said, smiling fondly at his lovers and how eager they were to protect him, even from his past. “I laid those ghosts to rest. We did together. They shall not deny us our future.”

“But our future need not contain estates and lands if you do not wish it,” D’Artagnan said. “We understand how much of a burden this is for you, how the responsibility of it weighs on you. We would not willingly add more to your shoulders.”

“But they are not my shoulders alone,” Athos countered. He felt warmth all throughout him at how his brothers placed his comfort, his ease, above their own. He knew how much having a home, especially a home such as this, would mean to the rest of them. 

“Never alone,” Porthos said, clasping Athos’ shoulder and squeezing. “Never again.”

“I do know how much this would mean to you all,” Athos explained. “I would not deny us this, not for memories long dealt with.” 

“Brother…” Porthos began, unhappy with the idea of Athos forcing himself to do something simply for their sakes.

“Porthos,” Athos shot back gently. “You cannot tell me I am wrong. You, who has never known a true home before the garrison. And D’Artagnan, our dear Whelp, who misses his farm so much it hurts sometimes. You have but to watch him with the horses to see that. 

“Then there is Aramis. He has been a soldier the longest of us so is more inured to this life. Yet, of us, he is our healer and our scholar. Does he not deserve a home big enough to fill with all the books we can buy him?”

“All of that is true and more,” Aramis agreed, “but none of it means more to us than you do. Surely, you understand that as well.”

“I do,” Athos agreed, “and I would not even consider this if I thought it would cause me undue pain. It would be pointless for my lovers would never allow such a thing for long. Please, trust me to know my own heart in this.”

“Alright,” D’Artagnan agreed for them, earning a bit of a scowl from Porthos. “But if it does get to be too much, just tell us. We will help you, if we can, and if we cannot then we will leave this place. I meant what I said before. It is not the place that makes this a home, but those within it.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“So what are we going to call the place?” Porthos asked as they relaxed in the sitting room. It was late and the fire was burning in the hearth once more. They had spent the day thinking about the changes that Treville’s visit had brought about as well as what the man had said about coming back. 

“I would say leave it as it is but it might be safer for Treville if his name was not associated with us outright, should anything happen,” Athos offered.

“Hmm, yes,” Aramis replied. “That brings to mind those contingency plans he mentioned. I do not care for the risks he takes on our behalf. If we are found out and it becomes known that he was not only aware but aiding us…”

“I know,” Athos agreed. “But there is little we can do about it. He will do what he feels he must regardless of our wishes. The only way to truly shield him from this would be to not return. Even then, our residing in his former estate will give some cause to question his culpability.”

“The Captain knows what he is doing,” D’Artagnan said. “He has been a tactician longer than any of us have even been soldiers. He will have contingency plans in place for himself as well. I know I do not know him as well as you all do, but after all he has done for us… for you… do you really think he would want us to resign our commissions for his sake?”

“You are right,” Athos said. “I do not like it, but Treville is not a stupid man. He knows the risks he takes. That he chooses to do so, is his right. We will not be so disrespectful as to take that from him.”

“Maison de Freres,” D’Artagnan said suddenly.

“Lad?” Porthos asked.

“What to call the place,” he explained. “Maison de Freres. Unless you do not like it, of course.”

“It is perfect,” Aramis told him and pulled him into a soft kiss. 

“Agreed,” Athos and Porthos both replied.

D’Artagnan smiled widely at them all. He had pulled Aramis into his arms after their kiss and continued to hold him. “I suppose the only thing left to decide is whether or not we wish to return,” he said. He felt Aramis stiffen in his arms and tightened his hold for a moment. “I know my feelings on the matter, but I would know each of yours as well.”

“What do you want to do?” Aramis asked him. 

“I want to know your thoughts, and Athos’, before speaking of my own,” D’Artagnan told him then continued before either man could start to protest. “Of the four of us, you and Athos are the most likely to change your answer to suit what it is you think we might want to hear. Porthos and I will tell you honestly, if you ask us to. And while I am not saying you or Athos would **lie** , I am saying that you might…”

“Fail to mention pertinent facts,” Porthos put in. “Especially if you think those facts might make us change _our_ minds.”

“Just so,” D’Artagnan said. He could feel how stiff Aramis had become in his arms and began rubbing his back, hoping to soothe him. He hated that he could not see Athos right now to see how much his words had upset him as well.

“You are, of course, correct,” Athos said, the overly formal tone to his voice giving testament to how upset he was. 

“I am sorry,” D’Artagnan winced. “If you truly wish to know my thoughts on this then I shall tell you. You do not have to speak first. Neither of you do.”

“No, I am the one who is sorry,” Athos said, his voice softening. “I had no right to take offense at the truth particularly when you are, once again, only seeking to protect us. Part of me wants to stay right here and never go back. I have enough of my family’s money left to see us started well. I believe D’Artagnan could make this into a working horse farm in short order, though he would have to teach me and Porthos what to do.”

“You would do that?” D’Artagnan asked, awed at the very thought. 

“Why not? I know you would find satisfaction in such an undertaking.”

“And what am I to do while you three raise horses?” Aramis asked, aware that Athos had not mentioned him needing to learn.

“You, love, are much too accomplished a surgeon and a scholar to waste your time in such a way. As to what you would do, that would be up to you. You could spend all day studying everything under the sun and I would not care as long as you were happy.”

“You said only part of you wants that,” Porthos put in. The picture Athos painted was tempting, almost too tempting. He could see the boy being content with it and Aramis but he doubted if he and Athos could stomach such a life for long. Not without starting to feel trapped by it.

“Yes,” Athos smiled. “And I think you know why. For as much as I could live that life, it is not the life I wish to live. It is not the life I have grown accustomed to and I do not know if I could find it satisfactory any more. In truth, I am not sure I could have ever found that life satisfactory.”

“Yeah,” Porthos agreed. “It sounds nice and all, but…”

“But?” D’Artagnan queried.

“But I don’t know how long I could stomach it without getting… itchy,” Porthos admitted. “All I’ve ever known is fightin’, either just to survive or as a soldier. I don’t know how to live any other sort of life. This has been nice and all that, but I know it’s only temporary.”

“I think I understand,” D’Artagnan said. “I grew up a farmer’s son. My father always expected me to take over the farm. That was never my dream. I love working with the horses because it reminds me of home, of him, but it is not where my heart lies.”

“Aramis?” Athos called when he remained silent. He was the only one who had yet to give his thoughts on returning to duty and the longer he remained silent the more worried the others became.

“I was supposed to be a priest,” he began. “It was what my parents… my father… planned for me. While I am a deeply religious man, like D’Artagnan, my father’s dream was never my dream. Luckily, one day I met a priest who saw how terribly unhappy I was at seminary and told me that there were other options, that just because I felt called to serve God did not mean I had to don the robes of a priest to do so. He then introduced me to a friend of his who happened to be a soldier. I think you can tell where things went from there.

“Even after becoming a soldier, I was still, while not discontent, not wholly so either,” Aramis continued. “I knew there was still something missing. That something was the three of you. I know you will think my answer is not truly my own, but it is. My place is with you. Be it here, the battlefield or the Bastille. Could I find peace here? Yes. Can I find that same peace while still returning to duty? Yes. There where and what of it makes no difference. As D’Artagnan said, our home is not a place; it is those within my heart that I carry with me always.”


	56. Chapter 56

Part 56

Treville took his time as he rode back to the garrison. He was glad to see his men recovering so well. He had been so very worried for them, especially Porthos. He knew firsthand what guilt could do to a man and Porthos was not the sort of man to shoulder it well. Luckily, he had his brothers to help bear the burden when he alone could not. 

He was glad he had shocked them into accepting the estate. He had been ready for them to put up a fight but he was happy that it had not come to that. He had meant what he said. He would rather see the place in their hands, see it become a home again, than see it fall into ruin. And it was not as if he was going to have a family of his own to leave the place to. 

As he rode, he tried to push away the lingering worry that troubled him. He knew the four were devoted to one another. He had seen that with his own eyes. That did not, however, mean that they were going to have an easy time of it. While he would do his level best to only send them on assignments together, he knew he would not always be able to do so. Moreover, he could not help but worry about what might happen if they were found out. 

He had told them he had plans in place and he did. Several of them, to be exact. However, they would mean nothing if one of them found himself arrested before Treville had a chance to move. If that happened, well, he had a plan in place for that as well but it was risky. Very risky. And there was no guarantee of success or even that he would live through the attempt. Not that he would not try regardless. It would be a cold day in hell before he allowed any of these men to rot in prison for who they _loved_.

Pushing his more morbid thoughts aside, he thought about what he would do if they did decide to return. He had been quietly grooming a replacement for Athos, just in case. He had hoped it would not be necessary, as the man was nowhere near the caliber of soldier that Athos was. If they did come back, that would relieve Treville of that particular burden. He thought, however, he would need to ease them back into their duties. They had been gone a long time and while there had been nothing to be done for it, it would still take time for them to once again return to the rhythm of things.

Another thought occurred to him then and he frowned. From his previous conversation with D’Artagnan, he knew that they had not discussed the possibility of any permanent damage to Athos’ back. At least they had not at that time. He did not know if the lad had brought it up to them, but knowing the boy, he probably had. With a sinking feeling, he realized he would have to reassess Athos’ abilities before allowing him back into the field. He could just imagine how that idea would go over, particularly with Porthos. Deciding not to borrow trouble, he determined to wait until they actually came back before worrying about it. He would cross that bridge when the time came and not before. 

Treville smiled tiredly when the garrison came into view, glad to be nearly home. The ride to and from his former estate was a long one and he was weary. He hated to admit it, but he missed those boys far too much than was strictly good for him. He had not realized how much he relied on their relentless good nature to bolster him throughout his duties. Just the thought of Aramis’ smile was enough to make him do so as well – a very dangerous thing for a soldier, most especially one in charge of sending these men into danger on a daily basis. 

Giving his horse to the stable boy, he headed toward his office. He had some paperwork to go over before he retired for the night. He most certainly would _not_ be thinking of his four lost lambs and whether or not they would be returning to the fold. He would do that later, after his actual work was done.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“Porthos, there is something I would like to speak with you about,” Athos said as they sheathed their swords. They had finished their sparring practice for the day and were preparing to join Aramis inside. D’Artagnan would be along later, after he had finished whatever he was doing with the horses at present.

“What is it?” Porthos asked, giving Athos his full attention. He had a feeling whatever he wanted to talk about was not something he wanted to say in front of the others, at least not yet.

“I… I realize that you and I, we have not… that is, we have…”

“Brother, whatever it is, you can tell me,” Porthos said, unable to watch Athos struggle so without reacting.

Athos paused and nodded at him. He took a steadying breath and began again. “I realize we have not, as yet, acted on what is between us. I would change that before we leave this place.”

“Athos,” Porthos began slowly, unsure at first how to reply. “You know that is not necessary. I do not doubt your feelings for me. We need take things no further than we have.”

“And if I wish to?” Athos asked. He was not surprised by Porthos’ reticence in this regard. In actuality, he had fully expected it. He understood just how much he was asking of the other man but he knew that until they crossed that barrier they would never truly be able to put the past to rest.

“You know I would deny you nothing that was within my ability to give,” Porthos told him. 

“But you feel that this is not,” Athos finished for him. “I am sorry. I did not mean to ask for more than you would willingly give. I only thought… But that does not matter now. Rest assured, I shall never bring the matter up again.” With that, Athos turned to head back inside the house. He was disappointed, to be sure, but he could not blame Porthos. He had endured so much more than the rest of them at that creature’s hands. If he could never bring himself to share more than he did now, then he would still be glad for the privileged that was afforded him.

“Athos, wait,” Porthos called out and grabbed his arm to stop him from leaving. 

“It is alright, brother,” Athos told him, smiling softly. “I understand. I do. And I do not blame you. I could never. I will take you on your terms and I will never ask for more than you are willing to give.”

Porthos swallowed thickly, almost choking on the bile suddenly flooding his throat. He could not believe that Athos would ever want to be with him in the manner he was suggesting. How could he after what Porthos had tried to do to him? How could he even think to trust him enough… to trust him not to lose control and…

“Porthos. Porthos, come back to me now,” Athos said firmly. He grasped him by the arms and shook him slightly, trying to jar him out of his memories.

All at once, Porthos’ eyes snapped back to Athos’ face and he gasped aloud.

“Are you back with me now?” Athos asked worriedly.

“Yeah,” Porthos replied shakily. “I’m sorry. I…”

“The fault was mine,” Athos said. “I should never have brought this up. Forgive me.”

“It’s not your fault,” Porthos shook his head. “I just got lost there for a moment. I’m alright now.”

“Very well,” Athos relented. “Come, let us go inside and find Aramis. I am sure his presence will help calm you once more.”

“Wait,” Porthos said again. He did not give himself a chance to get lost in his memories this time. “If… if this is something you want… something you want with me… you know I won’t deny you, brother.”

“Just as you know I will not force you into something that _you_ do not want. Nor will I allow you to simply endure something that is supposed to be… well, that should not be a trial at any rate.”

“No, you’re right about that. It should be something beautiful, something special. Least it should between us,” Porthos agreed, finding the words Athos had seemed unable to. 

“Just so,” Athos smiled. “And it if will not be something that you will enjoy, then I would rather not do it at all. What you give me is enough. More than enough. Your love… it is something I never thought I would have. That I do, is a blessing that I will not take for granted.”

“If you think I do not want you, Athos, you are as foolish our boy,” Porthos told him. “It is the same for me as you said yourself. I want you in every way that one man can want another.”

“But?”

“But… I am scared,” Porthos admitted. He looked down at the dusty ground, unable to meet his brother’s eyes at the admission. He knew Athos would think no less of him for it but it still stung his pride to say it aloud.

“And you think I do not feel the same?” Athos replied. “You are not the only one with ghosts to lay to rest. I would have us do that together.”

“Then let us go and speak with the others,” Porthos said. “If we are to do this, and I would like very much to try for both our sakes, then I would have them with us for it.”

“Agreed,” Athos said. “In truth, I could not see us doing this without them.”

They found Aramis in the library reading his Bible. Athos smiled at the sight and shook his head fondly. For all of the books at Aramis’ disposal, more often than not, he chose to read his Bible. Sometimes, in the evenings, he would even read to them, giving them his interpretation of the passages he read.

“How was practice?” Aramis asked as he closed his Bible and placed it on the side table. 

“Good,” Athos replied. “I believe I have learned to compensate for any loss of flexibility.”

“Excellent,” Aramis beamed. “But something is troubling you. What is it?”

“You know us so well, love,” Porthos said and moved to sit down next to Aramis.

“Ah well, I have had years of experience at reading that particular look.”

“We did want to talk to you about something,” Athos said, sitting down in one of the nearby chairs.

“With just me or should we perhaps wait for the Whelp?” Aramis asked.

Porthos looked to Athos then, unsure. He knew they needed to speak to D’Artagnan as well but he thought that Athos might want to do that privately. Not that he did not think the boy would not want to speak with him once he found out. He would make sure that Porthos was well aware of any concerns he had.

“I can speak with D’Artagnan later,” Athos said. “We would rather speak with you now if you do not mind.”

“Of course not,” Aramis said, starting to grow worried.

Deciding to simply state the facts Athos went on. “I have spoken with Porthos and told him of my desire to go further with him. He, quite understandably, has concerns.”

“By going further, you mean…”

“I want him to fuck me,” Athos said bluntly, risking no miscommunication in this.

“I see,” Aramis said. He licked his lips and swallowed, trying to mask both his surprise and his sudden spike of arousal. “And Porthos is, um, worried because?”

“Of what happened,” Porthos said. “Before. In the church. I… I tried to…”

“You did nothing of the sort,” Athos told him.

“Maybe not,” Porthos sighed. “But it was still my body hurtin’ you. It was still my voice tauntin’ you. I got those memories inside me. And so do you. That… that might make things a bit harder on you than you think.”

“I am not unaware of this,” Athos said. “But I will not allow her to take this from us. Not without a fight.”

“What do you need me to do, my friends?” Aramis asked. “Whatever I can do to be of help, you have but to ask it.”

“Thank you, brother,” Porthos told him. “For one, we would have you there. You and the Whelp both.”

“Of course,” Aramis agreed at once.

“For another, we would need you to be vigilant. We will both be prone to losing ourselves in our memories of the past. We shall need you and D’Artagnan to watch for this and to help draw us out when it happens.”

“When?”

“Be assured, Aramis, it will happen to at least one of us, if not both,” Athos said. “The memories, and the fear, are too strong. But perhaps this will finally lessen their hold on us.”

“Then we shall be vigilant,” Aramis promised. “And, when the time comes, we shall draw you back to yourselves again. Back to us again.”

“What’s going on?” D’Artagnan asked as he walked into the room and saw the rather serious expressions on his brothers’ faces.

“Just having a discussion, Whelp,” Porthos replied evasively.

“I would speak to you about it tonight, if that is alright,” Athos told him, hoping to forestall his natural curiosity.

D’Artagnan paused and looked closer at Porthos and Aramis. He turned back to Athos and took in the seriousness of his expression as well as the silent pleading to go along with his request. It was the latter that decided it for him. He would never go against Athos’ wishes unless it outright endangered the man, and this did not appear to do so.

“As you wish,” D’Artagnan replied. “Give me a few moments to clean up and I shall begin preparing supper.”

“Why don’t you let me do that tonight,” Aramis offered. “You have all been working today while I have been losing myself in here.”

“And did you enjoy yourself?” D’Artagnan asked.

“Well of course, but...”

“Then that is all we care about,” he told him with a grin. “Now stay put and finish your conversation. I will wash up and begin supper.”

“D’Artagnan,” Aramis huffed fondly.

“Aramis,” D’Artagnan echoed. “I find working with the horses as relaxing as you do spending a day in here reading whatever catches your eye. And it is clear from the looks on their faces that these two still need to speak with you.”

“You are a good lad, D’Artagnan,” Porthos said. 

“I am merely your brother.” That said, he turned and left the library to clean up and begin preparing their evening meal. He decided to take his time about it, unsure how much the others still needed to discuss. He felt a twinge of envy that they had not thought to wait for him but he knew that Athos would explain things to him tonight. That was good enough for him.

Supper was a companionable affair as it always was these days. They spoke of inconsequential things, of how their sparring session went and their plans for the coming day. Afterwards, when D’Artagnan made to start clearing the table, Aramis stopped him. “No,” he said. “I am more than capable of this. Go and spend some time with Athos. I am sure he has missed you today.”

“Alright,” D’Artagnan laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. He held out his hand to Athos who took it and led him from the room. As they went, he saw Porthos rise and start helping Aramis with his task. “So, the sitting room?”

“I thought our room might be better suited,” Athos said. He wanted to provide D’Artagnan with the privacy to react as he would without fear of hurting Porthos with a misspoken word. 

“That bad, is it?” D’Artagnan teased.

“I do not think so,” Athos replied honestly, letting the rest of the sentiment go unspoken, knowing D’Artagnan would understand.

D’Artagnan merely squeezed his hand in reply, letting him know that he did, indeed, understand what Athos was inferring. Once inside their room, Athos closed the door behind them and both men began to strip down until they were just in their shirts and breeches. Once comfortable, they sat down on the bed side by side.

“First, I wish to thank you for allowing me to wait to explain to you what was going on,” Athos said. “We did not speak to Aramis first to slight you in any way.”

“Athos, please,” D’Artagnan said, interrupting him. “Do not thank me for not forcing you to explain yourself as if you somehow owe me any such thing for you do not. Yes, I am your brother. Yes, I am your lover. But neither of those titles grants me the right to all your secrets. I know what you wish me to and no more.”

“You are a man of singular quality, my friend, and I do not know what we have done to deserve you in our lives. I, for one, hope that whatever it is we never cease doing it.”

“I am no better a man than any of my brothers,” D’Artagnan argued. “Much lesser most of the time, in fact. For I am nowhere near as kind as Porthos or learned as Aramis or wise as you, but I strive to be.”

Athos shook his head and opened his mouth to argue then shut it again. “I shall not argue this with you,” he said instead. “For if I do, we shall be here all night and I have other things I would discuss with you.”

“Alright,” D’Artagnan grinned. He would definitely count this as a win, even if Athos most definitely would not.

Athos huffed out a laugh of his own and took his lover’s hand. “I spoke with Porthos after our sparring session,” he began, deciding to simply tell him as he had Aramis and let D’Artagnan pose what questions or concerns he would. “I told him that I wished to take our relationship further… physically further.”

“You wish to lay with him,” D’Artagnan said, understanding Athos’ meaning at once.

“Yes. In short, I want him to fuck me. As you might guess, Porthos has concerns about this.”

“Is his worry only for how he might react?” D’Artagnan asked.

“No,” Athos said, surprised by the insightful question. “He worries for how I might react as well. He understands that, while I know it was not **him** that hurt me, it still looked and sounded like him and my mind could easily become… confused.”

“Good,” D’Artagnan said then quickly backtracked. “Not that I think that’s a good thing. I only meant that it was good that he realized this.”

“Peace, love. I understand what you meant.”

D’Artagnan hesitated a moment then took a breath and met Athos’ eyes squarely. “I do not mean to doubt you or Porthos, but I feel I must ask. Are you certain you are both ready for this?”

“No,” Athos said with a sigh. “But I would still have us try. I will not allow that demon to take this from us. We both want each other in that way. I would have us try, even if we fail this time.”

“Alright then,” D’Artagnan said. “As long as you are both aware of the risk and the dangers then I can see no reason not to try.”

“Thank you,” Athos said, relieved at not having to convince D’Artagnan that it was not foolhardy to even attempt such a thing. “There is one more thing I would ask.”

“Name it and know that it is yours if it is in my power to give.”

“You really should wait until you know what it is I am going to ask for before you say that,” Athos teased.

“Why?” D’Artagnan replied. “Knowing would make no difference. If it is in my power to give it to you then I shall. I love you more than _life_ , Athos. There is nothing I would not give you if I could.”

“D’Artagnan…”

“Ask for what it is you want, love,” D’Artagnan told him, trying to keep their conversation from getting diverted once again.

“I would have you there,” he said. “That is… when Porthos and I… make the attempt. If you’ve no objection.”

“I do not,” D’Artagnan told him. “But may I ask why?”

“As I explained to Aramis, that one or both of us will, at some point, become lost to our memories is a given. If the two of you are there, then you will be able to see this much sooner than either of us will and you will be there to help bring us back to ourselves.”

“That makes sense. But now I must ask, if you believe that this **will** happen, are you certain you still wish to go through with it?”

“Yes,” Athos told him, his voice strong and sure. “I will not allow my past to dictate my future. Not anymore. I lived that way for too many years. I will not live that way again. Nor will I allow Porthos to do so. Ever.”

“Alright, brother,” D’Artagnan told him. “I will be there and I will do all that is within my power to help you both. And know that whatever you need, no matter what it is, if it will help you in this you have but to ask it.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“So, Athos spoke to you, I take it,” Aramis said the next morning once he and D’Artagnan were alone together. Porthos and Athos were outside, preparing to spar once more, leaving the other two inside the house. 

“Yes,” D’Artagnan replied. He studied Aramis for a bit, his expression pensive. 

“You are troubled?” Aramis asked, taking in the look on the younger man’s face.

“A bit, yes,” he replied. “Though not so much for the two of them.”

Aramis stared at him then, unsure what he could mean. He did not think the lad was worried for himself. That only left him. “Why?” he finally asked, unable to figure out why D’Artagnan would be worried about him in all of this.

“I am not altogether sure you are ready for this,” he said honestly. “In truth, I am not sure _they_ are ready for this either but I will not stop them from trying. That would do more damage than a failed attempt, I fear. But I worry what it might yet do to you.”

“I should be the least of your concerns,” Aramis said, looking away. “I was not the one violated, or nearly so. I was only…”

“Only made to watch,” D’Artagnan supplied. “Just as you will be again, when they do this.”

“It will not be the same,” Aramis said softly.

“No, it will not,” D’Artagnan agreed. “But it will be close enough. I will be there for you. You know that I will. Just as I will be there for them should they have need of me. But I still worry all the same.”

Aramis went to him then and wrapped his arms around him. He laid his head on the younger man’s shoulder and let himself breathe in his scent. “You are too good to us,” he whispered.

“Not possible,” D’Artagnan whispered back as he held him. They stayed like that until Aramis finally raised his head and took a step back. D’Artagnan took the time to look him over, making sure he was steady once more. 

“I am alright,” Aramis huffed in mock annoyance, his heart warming at how mindful the other man was of him.

D’Artagnan looked at him a moment longer than nodded. “You do know you can come to me at any time for anything,” he told him. “I will always listen to you, Little One. To whatever it is you may need to say.”

Aramis’ breath locked in his chest at D’Artagnan’s words. He understood what he meant, what he was offering, but he was not at all sure he could take advantage of it. Though he had allowed it to happen, and more than once, he had never spoken of it to anyone. He had, in fact, gone to great lengths to hide the evidence of it from those around him. And while he knew his brother… his Master… would never judge him for his… mistakes… he was still frightened. And so horribly ashamed.

Suddenly, Aramis found himself pulled forward again and strong arms were wrapping around him. “I’m sorry,” he heard D’Artagnan say over and over again as he was held and stroked. It was only then that he realized that he was shaking quite badly.

“It’s alright,” Aramis gasped out at last, his throat as scratchy and hoarse as if he had been screaming. “I’m alright, love. I’m alright.”

“I am so sorry,” D’Artagnan whispered into his ear as he held him close. “I did not mean to… to hurt you so.”

“You did not,” Aramis told him. “I merely got lost in my thoughts for a moment.”

“I will never mention it again,” D’Artagnan vowed.

“It is fine,” Aramis said. “I… You must understand, I have never spoken of this to anyone. You… I am so… so very shamed… Of all the things I have done, it is the single most disgraceful… most dishonorable… among them.”

“Little One, I find it near impossible to believe you have ever acted without honor,” D’Artagnan told him. He knew the minute the words were out of his mouth that they were the exact wrong thing to say. He felt Aramis stiffen in his arms then he was being forcibly shoved away as Aramis stormed from the room. 

D’Artagnan did not follow him immediately, as much as he wanted to. He stayed in the kitchen instead and gave Aramis a chance to calm before he attempted to approach him. While his lover would never hurt him, he could turn quite vicious when he felt himself cornered and D’Artagnan had no desire to be filleted by the man’s acid tongue.

When he did go after him some few minutes later, he did not have to look far. He found him standing beside the fireplace in the sitting room, his back toward the door. “May I come in?” he asked from the doorway, unwilling to force his presence on the other man if it was unwelcome.

“It is your home, too,” Aramis replied without turning around.

“Very well,” D’Artagnan replied staying where he was. “I am sorry to have disturbed you.” He turned to leave, vowing not to take Aramis’ rejection to heart and to try approaching him again later. 

“Wait, please,” Aramis called out. He turned around and regarded the other man through the open doorway. He had only made it a few paces from the doorway but, to Aramis, it seemed like a chasm. “I am sorry. I did not mean that.”

“Yes, you did,” D’Artagnan replied with a wan smile and tilt of his head, much the way Athos would do. “But I understand. You do not react well when cornered, regardless of who may have accidentally done so. You obviously do not wish my company. I shall not force it upon you.”

Aramis watched him turn to leave once more and felt something cold grip his heart. “Please don’t go,” he rasped, suddenly afraid of what it might mean for them if D’Artagnan left now, like this.

D’Artagnan turned back and looked at his lover. What he saw had him striding back over to him and pulling him into his arms. “Aramis,” he whispered as he held him, “I was not leaving _you_. I was merely giving you the space you seemed to want. There is no need for such worry.”

For his part, Aramis simply wrapped his arms around him and let himself be held. The feel of his lover’s strong arms holding him, surrounding him, did more to calm his inner turmoil than anything else could have. 

“I overreacted,” he said eventually. 

“No,” D’Artagnan replied. “I should not have spoken so blithely of something I know nothing about.”

“And now you blame yourself for defending me?” Aramis tried to tease. He brought his hands to D’Artagnan’s chest and clung to his shirt as if afraid to let go.

“When it sends you running from me? Yes,” he told him firmly. 

Aramis sighed and said nothing for long minutes. He let the younger man hold him and took comfort in that as he worked to push his memories of the past back down inside of himself. He was neither stupid nor a fool. He knew he would have to speak to him about what had been done to him… what he had allowed to be done to him, but he was not ready. Not now. 

“I understand that this is something I will have to speak of,” he admitted aloud.

“No, it is not,” D’Artagnan countered. “Not if you do not wish to, which you obviously do not.”

“Lad, you and I both know we cannot afford such secrets between us,” Aramis argued softly. “Not if we are to keep going in the direction that we are headed now.”

D’Artagnan frowned then carefully pulled Aramis back from him so he could look at his face. The weary resignation he saw there tore at him. “Can we sit down, please?” If they were going to discuss this at all, then the least he could do was make Aramis feel as comfortable and safe as possible.

“Of course,” Aramis smiled. He took D’Artagnan’s hand and pulled him over to the divan. He waited until the younger man had positioned himself then settled down between his legs so that his head rested on his chest.

Once they were sitting comfortably with D’Artagnan’s hand running through Aramis’ hair, D’Artagnan returned to the conversation. “I do not like the idea of you being forced to speak of something. Especially something you find so traumatic.”

“It was not traumatic.”

“Yes, it was. You cannot even talk about it in a roundabout way without… reacting. Whatever was done to you… God, when I think of all the things it could be, all the ways someone could have **hurt** you…” D’Artagnan trailed off, his voice seizing up in his throat at the very thought of Aramis being harmed. 

“I was not hurt, love,” Aramis told him, though that was not quite the truth. The thought of lying to D’Artagnan made shame well up inside of him and he simply could not do it. He revised his words, offering his lover the truth of it, or at least as much of the truth as he could right now. “Not… not overly so. Not so that anyone would notice the next day. Not if I was careful.”

“You hid it,” D’Artagnan said flatly. “You hid it so Athos and Porthos would not see, would not know that you were hurt.”

“Yes,” Aramis admitted. “I could not… If they knew, they would not have rested until they knew the how and why of it. I do not think I could have lived with that. Not then. Not with the shame of what I had done still so fresh… still eating me alive from the inside out.”

“If you do not wish them to know, you only have to say. I will never betray your confidence.”

“Even to Athos?” Aramis asked. He felt his face grow hot and ducked his head down, wishing he could pull the words back into his mouth and not have spoken them aloud.

“Even to Athos,” D’Artagnan confirmed. “He is my lover and my mentor and my brother, but I will take the confidences you would have me keep to the grave unless the keeping of them would somehow put you in danger. I know you probably do not believe me, but it is true.”

“I believe you,” Aramis told him. “I know you would not lie to me. I simply did not think you kept anything from Athos.”

“I do not, unless it is something that you wish me to.”

“D’Artagnan…” Aramis whispered, unsure what to say. He was touched by the younger man’s loyalty and desire to protect him, even from his past. “I will tell you, just… not now.”

“When you are ready and not before,” D’Artagnan assured him, promising to be patient. Inside however, he was anything but. He would find out who had hurt Aramis and how and then there would be a bloody retribution the likes of which had never before been seen.


	57. Chapter 57

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There will probably be another part or two of this story but there will be another one that picks up pretty much where this one ends. I grew a plot and thought it would work out best as a new story rather than this ending up being 100+ chapters long.

Part 57

“Do you have a moment?” D’Artagnan asked Porthos once their evening meal was done. 

“’Course,” Porthos replied, trying not to let his sudden nervousness show. He knew exactly what the Whelp wanted to talk to him about. To say he was not looking forward to the conversation would be akin to saying that Aramis *disliked* the Cardinal.

“Walk with me,” D’Artagnan said and headed out the back door knowing Porthos would follow. Once they were sufficiently away from the house, he turned around and faced his friend. “Do not look so worried, brother. We shall get through this as we have everything else. Together.”

Porthos let out a breath and felt himself relax at least somewhat. He was still not looking forward to the conversation but he no longer worried that the boy meant to try to dissuade him or, even worse, forbid it outright.

“I take it you know what Athos wants to do then,” Porthos said then grimaced at how inane that sounded.

“Yes,” D’Artagnan replied. “I will admit, I have some few concerns. I would speak with you of them if you’ve a mind.”

“Speak your mind, lad,” Porthos told him. “Though I don’t know if anything I can say will set your mind at ease.”

“You think I worry for Athos,” D’Artagnan surmised. “You are wrong. Oh, I worry for him some, I cannot help that. But he is not the one I am most concerned about.”

Porthos stared at him and frowned. “Why the hell not?” he growled, all at once angry. Athos had been through so very much and the boy acted as if he did not even care what this might do to him.

“Because he is the single most stubborn man I have ever known,” D’Artagnan explained calmly. “Even if this attempt falls short of what you both wish for, he will not allow that to stop him.”

“So it’s me you are worried about,” Porthos said, his anger morphing into shame. “You think I’ll…”

“I think no such thing,” D’Artagnan told him firmly, taking him by the arm and giving him a shake. “You will not hurt him. That is not what I fear.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I will not allow you to.”

“Do you… do you think I… I might…” Porthos stammered out, the panic in his eyes easy to see.

“No,” D’Artagnan told him. “No, I do not. But I understand that you think it is a possibility so I vow to you now that I will be vigilant and I will not allow you to harm him. Of that, you can be sure, brother.”

The tension that had coiled inside of Porthos left him so abruptly at the younger man’s words that his knees nearly buckled. If D’Artagnan had not reached out and grabbed him, he would have fallen to his knees on the ground. As it was, he very nearly pulled the both of them down. 

“Porthos? Are you alright,” D’Artagnan asked after allowing the man a moment to get himself back together. 

“Yeah,” he replied. “Sorry.”

D’Artagnan merely shook his head, letting him know that no thanks were necessary, that he would never allow his brother to fall when he could catch him. “Do you wish to go back?”

“No. I want to finish this,” Porthos said, not wanting to have to go through this all over again. 

“Very well,” D’Artagnan relented. He made sure Porthos was steady once more before releasing him and stepping back.

“If you’re not afraid for Athos and you’re not afraid of me hurtin’ him then what the hell are you so worried about?”

“Two things actually,” D’Artagnan began. “I worry about whether or not this is too soon for you. I know Athos wants to put this behind him and I admire him his determination to take back his life, but I am worried that he has blinded himself to the fact that *you* may not as yet be ready for such an endeavor.”

“Then why agree to it?” Porthos asked. “You know Athos would never do it if you objected.”

“I know,” D’Artagnan said, smiling wryly. “But I would be a poor lover, a poor brother, if I stood in his way in this. I have to allow him to try. And I have to trust you to know yourself well enough to know if you can even make the attempt. While neither of you can know if it will be as, um, successful as you would like it to, you should know your own minds enough to know if you can weather the attempt without causing yourselves undue harm.”

“And you are worried that I do not,” Porthos supplied.

“I am worried that you *want* to be for Athos’ sake and that desire may be clouding your judgment.”

“And again I must ask why you would agree then?”

“Because it is not my place to stop you,” D’Artagnan told him simply. “I will be there for you. I will ensure that no physical harm comes to Athos. I will do my utmost to ensure that no harm whatsoever comes to either of you. More than that, I cannot do.”

“Do we ask too much of you, lad?” Porthos asked, worried now about the burden they were placing on their youngest once more.

“No. You ask of me what you ask of me. There is no such thing as too much. You are my brothers. I would gladly lay down my life for any one of you. I will shoulder whatever burden necessary, especially if it means that I can ease your own load.”

Porthos closed his eyes for a brief moment then pulled D’Artagnan into his arms. He held him tightly and placed soft kisses to his forehead and temples, letting him know through his touch how very much he was cherished. 

“Tell me the rest of it,” Porthos said, though he refused to relinquish his hold on the boy. “What is the other thing that worries you?”

“Aramis,” D’Artagnan admitted. “This… this will be hard for him. The similarities, you see. He will be watching yet again. And while it will be completely different…”

“Our minds don’t always realize that,” Porthos filled in for him.

“Yes. I have spoken to him about it and he knows I will be there for him should he need me. Just as I will be there for you and for Athos should one of you have need of me. We *will* get through this and we will be all the stronger for it. Even if things do not go exactly as planned, we will persevere.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

When they gathered in the sitting room just after mid-day the following afternoon, Athos approached Porthos, his intent clear in both his eyes and the movements of his body. As gracefully as he could, he went to his knees in front of the other man and placed his hands upon Porthos’ thighs. When he looked at him, he could see the naked lust along with no small amount of fear all across his lover’s features.

“Athos,” Porthos said, his voice strained. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Athos, you do not have to do this.”

“Please,” Athos said softly, blushing faintly. “I would like very much to pleasure you this way if you would allow it.”

“Al-alright,” Porthos stammered. He was sitting on the divan with Aramis beside him and D’Artagnan on the far end. While they had asked them to be here, he was not sure that they had intended to be quite *this* close. 

“Would you feel more comfortable if Aramis and I moved to the chair?” D’Artagnan asked, sensing some of the cause of Porthos’ unease.

“I’m… just… just not sure if Aramis wants to be, you know, this close,” Porthos said, torn as to what to do. He did not like the idea of the other two moving away but he knew that Aramis might very well need the distance to help maintain his composure. 

“Would it be better if we moved?” Athos asked.

“No,” D’Artagnan said. “You two stay right where you are.” With that, he stood and pulled an unresisting Aramis along with him to the chair directly across from the divan. He sat down and quickly pulled Aramis into his lap before the man could protest. 

Porthos smiled slightly when he saw the Whelp pull Aramis into his lap and hold onto him. At least he would not have to worry about him. The boy would look after him in this allowing him to give his full attention to Athos who was kneeling at his feet and looking up at him expectantly.

“Go ahead,” Porthos told him encouragingly. He felt himself start to harden as Athos reached out and tentatively began working at the lacings of his breeches. He still could not believe that this was happening, that Athos was on his *knees* for him, was about to take his cock into his mouth and suck him. The thought alone sent a surge of arousal through him and his cock throbbed in want.

Athos felt his hands start to shake slightly as he undid Porthos’ breeches. He concentrated on evening out his breathing and telling himself that this time was not like before. Porthos was in control, there was no demon, no *gun*. Steadying himself, he freed Porthos’ growing erection, pulling his breeches and small clothes down his thighs and off, leaving him in nothing but his loose-fitting shirt. 

Athos looked up at him then and smiled, letting him know that he was well and that he wanted this. He could see the worry in his lover’s eyes and he squeezed his thigh reassuringly. With his other hand, he reached forward and gripped Porthos’ erection by the base. He stroked up once, pulling a deep moan from Porthos, then he bent his head forward and took the head of his cock into his mouth.

At the first touch of Athos’ mouth on his cock, Porthos knew he was lost. The feel of that mouth, so hot and wet, willingly taking him in made him ache. He moaned again as Athos began to work his way down his cock, slowly taking more and more of him in as he grew accustomed to his girth. 

He looked down and saw the lust and want on Athos face and it eased something deep inside of him. For a moment, his mind flashed back to *that* time and he remembered a different look on Athos’ face. He remembered the fear and *shame* that had been in his brother’s eyes as he had raped his mouth with his own pistol and felt his stomach roil. Shaking his head furiously, Porthos shoved those memories aside. They had no place here. 

A hand on his arm jerked him back to himself and Porthos looked over to find D’Artagnan eyeing him worriedly. The younger man was gripping his arm, grounding him the present and letting him know that he was here with them, that he was safe, and that Athos would come to no harm. With a nod of thanks, Porthos turned his attention back to Athos. He had obviously noticed that something was amiss for he had stopped and was looking up at Porthos. Porthos merely smiled at him and caressed his face gently before letting his hands come to rest on his head, his fingers threading through his hair.

Satisfied that Porthos was back with them, Athos returned to his ministrations. He once more began to suck, using his tongue to lave the hard flesh that filled his mouth to bursting. He realized that he was woefully inadequate at this and would need a great deal of practice at this. Somehow, he doubted his lovers would protest. 

Bit by bit, he took more of Porthos into his mouth, careful not to go down too far and choke. It was not a sensation he found at all pleasant and he did not want to trigger any unwanted memories for either of them. For a brief moment, he stuttered, the taste of gun oil almost overwhelming but he refused to falter. He knew it was only his mind conjuring up phantoms. There was no gun oil here for there was no gun. There was only Porthos, being so very patient and gentle with him, as he always was.

For his part, D’Artagnan watched the two men carefully. He had moved to Porthos’ side when the man seemed to get lost in his memories, but a single touch of his hand had been enough to bring him back to the present and remind him that he was here with his family. He did not miss it when Athos seemed to get caught up as well, but he managed to keep himself here with them so D’Artagnan only watched and did not interfere.

He was glad it was going as well as it was so far with them, for it was going far from well for Aramis. His lover was tense on his lap where he held him and D’Artagnan found himself whispering reassurances to him even as he watched the others for signs of distress. 

As Aramis watched them, he truly did not know how much more of this he could take. His mind refused to stop replaying the events of the past. All he could see was himself tied helplessly to the pillar while a demon in the guise of his brother shoved a loaded pistol into Athos’ mouth again and again. He could feel D’Artagnan’s arms around him, tight as a vice, and hear the soothing words the younger man whispered into his ear. He tried to focus on that, on the here and now, but the feeling of helpless impotence was nearly overwhelming. 

“Would it help if we were closer to them?” D’Artagnan whispered. “If you could see both their faces and touch them?”

“I… I do not know,” Aramis answered.

“Then let us try,” D’Artagnan told him. “For it if does not, then I am calling a halt to this.”

“No…”

“I will not sit here and watch you suffer so,” D’Artagnan told him firmly. “Do not argue with me on this, Little One. You welfare is my responsibility and right now you are suffering.” 

“Let us… let us try then,” Aramis said. He did not want to be the reason that his lovers had to stop. They were trying so hard and doing much better than he had thought they would. They deserved this chance and he would not take it away from them.

Aramis made to rise from D’Artagnan’s lap but the younger man simply tightened his grip and stood, lifting him as he did so. He carried him over to the divan without a word and sat them both down on the end opposite Porthos. When Porthos looked at them, one eyebrow raised in question, D’Artagnan merely shrugged and said, “We wished to be closer.”

“Alright,” Porthos replied. He knew there was more to it than that but he let it go for now. The feel of Athos’ mouth on him was making it hard to think rationally and it was taking all of his concentration not to tighten his grip on the man’s head and thrust.

Athos felt the divan dip and knew that their lovers had rejoined them. The knowledge that they were right there watching him as he sucked Porthos’ cock sent arousal spiraling through him and he moaned around the flesh in his mouth.

“Athos,” Porthos gasped desperately. His lover’s unskilled but enthusiastic ministrations were undoing him and he did not know how much more of this he could take. Gently, he tugged Athos back by the hair, careful not to be rough with him.

Athos looked up at him and frowned. “Did I…” he rasped, his throat a bit raw. He swallowed and tried again. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, love. God, no,” Porthos told him. “But if you want me to take you, then you need to stop or I’m going to end up spending down your throat.”

Athos’ eyes widened at Porthos’ words and he had to reach down and squeeze his own trapped erection. The thought of Porthos spending down his throat, in his mouth, where he could taste it made Athos’ blood burn.

“You like that idea, huh?” Porthos smirked, heartened by the effect his words seem to have on the other man.

“Yes,” Athos told him boldly. “Yes, I like that idea very much. Can we… sometime…”

“Whenever you want, love,” Porthos promised. 

“Would you… would you spend…” Athos trailed off unable to voice his wishes. It was not that he thought Porthos would say no or that he would look down on him but it was still quite difficult for him to ask for some things.

“What is it?” Porthos prodded. “Whatever it is, you have but to ask.”

“On my face,” Athos said, blushing fiercely and looking down at the floor. He could not meet Porthos’ eyes at the moment, let alone look at D’Artagnan and Aramis sitting a few short feet away.

“You want me to spend on your face sometime? Is that it?” Porthos repeated, both to make sure he understood and to see the effect the words would have on Athos.

Athos shuddered at hearing Porthos speak his fantasy aloud. He nodded, unable to speak just then and gripped Porthos’ thigh tightly with the hand that still rested upon it.

“Are you trying to make me spend this very second?” Porthos growled, letting the want he had for this man come through in his voice. He gripped his cock by the base to stave off the nearly overwhelming desire to spend and tipped Athos’ head up to look at him with his free hand.

“No,” Athos chuckled still blushing faintly. “I would have you do that inside of me.”

Porthos slid off the edge of the divan, going to his knees in front of Athos. He kissed him hungrily, his hand still tangled in his hair as he fought to gain some semblance of control. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against Athos’ own and panted softly. A moment later, he sat back fully and began divesting Athos of his clothes. He began with his shirt, tugging it from his breeches then pulling it over his head to drop forgotten on the floor next to them. 

He unlaced Athos’ breeches next and bade him stand so he could ease them down his legs and off. Once Athos was completely naked, Porthos spent a few seconds simply looking up at him then he tugged his hands and pulled him back down to his knees with him. 

“How do you want me?” Athos asked as Porthos removed his own shirt so he was naked as well.

Porthos thought for a moment then moved aside so he was no longer between Athos and the divan. “Lay your chest on the seat,” he instructed. “You won’t have to worry about holding yourself up that way.”

“Alright,” Athos replied. He licked his lips nervously and moved to comply. Porthos hand on his arm stopped him before he could.

“Are you sure?” he asked. He had not missed Athos’ sudden bout of nerves and had no wish to push him into something he was not ready for when they had already come so far.

“I am,” Athos told him, covering Porthos’ hand with his own. That his brother had cared enough to check, that he was aware of his state enough to know, warmed his heart. 

Porthos kissed him then, soft and sweet, then moved to get the oil they would need while Athos settled into position as comfortably as he could. Athos risked a glance at the other two and saw that D’Artagnan had his arms wrapped securely around Aramis. He could see the encouragement in both of their eyes as well as no small amount of worry. He reached out and grasped Aramis’ hand and squeezed, letting him know that he was there and he would be fine. They all would be.

When Porthos returned, the first thing he saw was Athos on his knees, bent over with his upper body resting on the divan, his hand holding onto Aramis’. He sank to his own knees behind Athos and placed his hands on the man’s hips, cradling them. 

Two things happened at once when he did that. The first was that Athos immediately tensed, his body instinctively remembering the last time Porthos had held his hips in his hands with a somewhat similar, if more violent, intent. Even as he told himself it was *not* the same, that Porthos would not hurt him, that he *wanted* this, he began to shake, his mind refusing to believe that he was not back in that ruined church at the mercy of a demon bent on destroying him utterly.

The second was that Porthos’ gaze fell wholly on Athos’ back. Athos’ scarred back. Scarred by his own hand. He felt Athos start to shake and knew he should do something, say something, to calm the other man but he was frozen in place, unable even to speak. All he could see was Athos, limp and bleeding, hanging by his arms…

“Porthos!” D’Artagnan barked as he grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him hard. He and Aramis had seen the exact moment when both men had succumbed to their memories. Unfortunately, it had been at the exact *same* time, leaving him unsure of who to see to first. He had ended up pushing Aramis toward Athos since he still had a grip on his hand and he focused on Porthos. 

Porthos turned his head slowly toward the sound of D’Artagnan’s voice. He blinked at him as if not really seeing him and felt the boy shake him again hard. That seemed to clear the sudden fog in his head a bit and he was able to focus once more.

“Porthos, you are not there,” D’Artagnan urged frantically. “You are here, in our home, safe with your family. You are not there. She cannot hurt you any more, brother.”

It seemed to take forever but Porthos finally nodded as his world righted itself once more. He was in their home. He was free. She could not make him hurt anyone ever again. At that realization, came the knowledge that he was still gripping Athos by the hips. He let go at once and felt a pang of guilt at the angry red marks his hands had left. He would have bruises for certain.

“Easy, brother,” D’Artagnan told him. He glanced at Athos and saw the livid marks and sighed. “Do not concern yourself so. You know as well as I that Athos does not mind a bruise now and again.”

“How many times must I hurt him before he sees reason and…”

“And what?” D’Artagnan shot back. “This did not hurt him. He gets more bruises than that from sparring and I do not see you berating yourself over those.”

“He is right,” Athos spoke up softly. He had stopped shaking thanks to Aramis’ soothing words, letting him know that he was safe within his home and that he and D’Artagnan would not allow him to come to harm. It was the latter that had done the most to calm him, for Athos remembered well the younger man’s promises to protect him and, even now, those vows eased him.

“Do you want to stop?” Porthos asked, almost hoping Athos would say yes at this point.

“No,” Athos replied stubbornly. “I would have us go on, but only if you feel you are able. I do not wish to push you farther than you are yet ready to go.”

Porthos swallowed and looked at D’Artagnan. At the younger man’s nod, he sighed. “I am willing to try. I am sorry, love. I fear I got lost for a moment there. I am back with you now, though.” 

Slowly, Porthos began to run his hands up and down Athos’ sides. Finally, he began to stroke his back as well, making himself accept the truth of it and no shy away. He could feel Athos responding to his touch and it heartened him. Reaching for the oil, he slicked a single finger and pressed it against Athos’ hole. He simply massaged it at first then carefully began to press inside. 

Athos moaned at the feeling of Porthos breaching his body. He had only felt his once before and that was when Porthos had prepared him so that Aramis could take him. He could feel how hard the man was reining himself in, holding back so as not to go too fast and cause Athos any pain. He remembered what Porthos had told them that first night, if it hurt then they were taking things too fast and needed to slow down. Somehow, Athos did not think that would be a problem. 

Once it was clear that both men were over their earlier fright, D’Artagnan sat back against the side of the divan once more. He pulled a reluctant Aramis with him, but did not make him relinquish his hold on Athos’ hand. He knew that his lover needed it even more than Athos did at the moment. Aramis was still so tense he was nearly vibrating with it and D’Artagnan was unsure what to do to calm him. For now, he would have to hope that Aramis could keep himself together. He needed to give his full attention to the pair before him as Porthos prepared Athos to be penetrated by him.

It did not take long for Athos’ body to relax around Porthos’ finger and he soon added a second. The stretch was considerably greater with two and he went slowly, using more oil and running his free hand up and down Athos’ side to distract him from the minor discomfort. 

“I’m going to open you up with three fingers this time, love,” Porthos told him, his voice rough with arousal. 

“Th-th-three?” Athos repeated. “Before you only… only used two…”

“I know,” Porthos said, “but I’m a touch bigger than Aramis. I’m afraid I’ll hurt ya if I only use two.”

“I trust you,” Athos told him. “It just…”

“Just what, love?”

“It… it already feels like half your *arm* is inside of me,” Athos admitted, blushing hotly. “I am not sure it is possible for me to open even more.”

“It is,” Aramis said quietly before Porthos could reply. “It feels… well, I felt…”

“Aramis?” Athos called when Aramis fell silent. He squeezed his hand encouragingly, wanting him to go on. For whatever reason, he needed Aramis to be a part of this, however peripherally.

“Plundered,” Aramis whispered. “I felt plundered, taken.”

“Yes, just that,” Athos agreed. It was exactly what he felt, as if his entire body was Porthos’ for the taking and he was glad for it.

“God, you two,” Porthos groaned. He grabbed the oil with his free hand and poured more over his fingers and all along Athos’ cleft. “I’m gonna add another finger now. It might sting a bit but if it hurts more than that you tell me and I’ll stop.”

“I trust you,” Athos told him again. “Make me ready for you, my Porthos.”

Taking a deep breath, Porthos pulled the two fingers inside of Athos out then slid back in with three. He went slowly, trying to give him a chance to adjust. He heard him hiss as he pushed inside and felt his body tense, then Athos was breathing deeply and forcing his muscles to relax and allow Porthos inside of him. 

Porthos held his fingers still until the pressure on them began to ease up then he began to move them in and out, stroking slowly. Once they were moving freely, he began to curl them, searching for that spot inside of Athos that would bring him pleasure. When Athos cried out and bucked back against him, he knew he had found it. 

“Porthos! Porthos, please,” Athos begged, no longer caring how desperate he sounded. 

“Yeah, okay,” Porthos replied, more than ready. Removing his fingers, he slicked his hard cock and placed the head against Athos’ hole. He held himself by the base with one hand, the other holding onto Athos’ hip to steady him.

Pushing forward, he began to slowly breach Athos’ body. He hesitated when Athos’ body fought the intrusion, then he was past the guardian ring and inside. With a groan, he forced himself to still, wanting to give his lover time to adjust. He knew he was a lot to take, especially for someone as unused to such things as Athos was. Only when he felt the tightness around him begin to ease did he attempt to move, pulling back the slightest bit then inching forward, sheathing himself inside the other man bit by bit.

Athos, for his part, clung to Aramis’ hand and panted heavily. He remembered what this had felt like when Aramis had first taken him but he was still woefully unprepared for Porthos. He was not in pain, precisely, but he could feel his body struggling to accommodate the other man’s girth and he had to fight against his natural inclination to move away from the source of his discomfort.

“Easy, love,” D’Artagnan leaned down past Aramis and whispered to Athos. “Just relax and breathe.”

“You’re doing so good,” Porthos told him as he released Athos’ hip to stroke along his side again. He could feel the fine tremors that wracked the man’s body and looked to Aramis and D’Artagnan in concern.

“He is alright,” Aramis said, his eyes never leaving Athos but able to discern Porthos’ worry. “It is rather overwhelming at first, but he is not in pain.”

Taking him at his word, Porthos turned back to Athos and continued to slowly penetrate him. It seemed to take forever until he was fully inside of him. When he was, he stilled again, giving them both a moment to adjust and get their breath back. Athos was still breathing hard and trembling slightly and Porthos could not tell if it was due to arousal or something else.

“Touch me,” Athos gasped out when he could remain silent no longer. The feel of Porthos slowly invading him, inch by inch, was like nothing he had ever experienced before. He felt like he was going to fly apart and the only thing still holding him together was Porthos. 

Porthos leaned down over Athos’ back and reached beneath him. His hand was still somewhat slick from the oil he had used on himself and he took Athos’ half-hard cock in hand and began to stroke, spreading the slick fluid all along the shaft.

Athos groaned aloud at the feel of Porthos’ warm, slick hand on his cock. He could not help but buck back into the man as if to take him in even deeper, eliciting an answering groan from the other man. He felt like he was on fire, his insides burning with pent up desire. 

“Porthos, please,” Athos begged, his entire world reduced to the feel of this man inside and around him. “Fuck me.”

Athos’ words sent lust slamming through him with the impact of a musket ball. Releasing his grip on Athos’ hip, Porthos wrapped his arm around the man’s chest then rose up onto his knees, pulling Athos up and off the divan along with him. 

The new position caused Athos’ weight to shift and his body bore down on Porthos’ cock, driving it impossibly deeper inside of him. Athos let out a strangled shout at the sudden change and he grabbed onto Porthos’ arm to try to steady himself. 

Holding Athos with one arm around his chest and his other hand wrapped around his cock, Porthos began to fuck him, using his hips to drive his cock up into him, stroking him in time with his thrusts. Porthos could feel his own release building and knew Athos was close as well. He knew it would not be long for either of them and wanted to make it as good for the other man as he could.

“Porthos… Porthos…” Athos moaned, unable to do more than thrash as he was taken apart more completely than he thought possible.

“Close, love,” Porthos gasped in his ear.

“Please, please, I want to feel you spend inside me,” Athos pleaded. His own release was seconds away.

That was enough to push Porthos over the edge. With a last shout, he tightened his grip on Athos and thrust up hard as he began to spend inside the other man. He had tightened his grip on Athos’ cock unconsciously but it was the final stimulus Athos needed and he, too, began to spend, his release coating Porthos hand as well as the divan. 

When it was over, both men were slumped over and panting hard. Porthos continued to hold Athos tightly to him, his arm wrapped securely around his chest, as if afraid that he might try to run away if he let go for even a moment.

Without a word, D’Artagnan carefully removed Aramis from his lap where he had held him. He sat him on the divan and quickly headed to the kitchen to get a basin and some rags to clean the others. He was rather worried about Aramis’ quietness. His lack of reaction as a whole was actually quite troubling but D’Artagnan pushed that away for now. He would get Athos and Porthos seen to then he could concentrate on Aramis.

When he returned to the sitting room, everyone was just as he had left them. He set the basin down next to Porthos and reached out to steady Athos so that Porthos could withdraw without fear of the other man collapsing. 

“I am alright,” Athos said as D’Artagnan held onto him. 

“Let us see to you now,” D’Artagnan told him. 

Athos opened his mouth to argue then closed it instead and simply nodded. He was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. And there was no shame in leaning on his brothers. Silently, he allowed D’Artagnan and Porthos to clean him up then the younger man was helping first Porthos to his feet and then him. 

“Our room?” D’Artagnan asked, unsure if Porthos wanted them all together tonight or not. Though, from the look of Aramis, he was not at all sure that they would be joining them.

“Yeah,” Porthos agreed and he and D’Artagnan led a thoroughly boneless Athos along the corridor to their shared room.

“Will you be alright for now?” D’Artagnan asked once Athos was tucked into the bed.

“We’ll be fine, Whelp,” Porthos assured him. “You go see to Aramis. It’s not natural for him to be this quiet.”

With a last clap to the shoulder, D’Artagnan left them making sure to close the door securely behind him. When he returned to the sitting room, he was not surprised to find that Aramis had not moved. This, how Aramis would handle this, is what he had been the most concerned about. Not sure what else to do, he set about returning the room to right. He cleaned the divan as best he could and took the soiled rags and basin back into the kitchen. This time when he entered the room, Aramis as standing beside the fireplace, his back to D’Artagnan.

“All things considered, it seemed to go well,” Aramis said when he heard D’Artagnan enter the room. 

“Yes,” D’Artagnan agreed. “Though now I find myself concerned for you.”

“You need not be,” Aramis told him. “I am fine.”

“Please do not put that lie between us,” D’Artagnan said softly. “You are anything but *fine* though I am at a loss as to what exactly has you so troubled. Will you tell me?”

“It really is nothing,” Aramis sighed but he did turn to face the other man. “I just… I could not seem to stop seeing… before. I knew it was not the same, that he was not in pain, was enjoying it even.”

“What we know and what we feel are not often the same,” D’Artagnan replied. He crossed the room to Aramis and pulled him into his arms. “I think part of the reason it was so hard for you was because it did not happen.”

Aramis frowned and pulled back, looking at D’Artagnan in confusion. “I do not understand. How does that make it worse for me?”

“She taunted you, did she not? Told you all the things she would do to him, all the ways she would hurt him while she made you watch. Your mind has had ample time to conjure up all sorts of horrible possibilities. 

“And being made to watch again, even though you could have said no, could have left at any time, well, we both know you would never abandon your brothers when they need you. It probably did not help that I was holding you, making you feel as if you could not get to him if you needed to.”

“Don’t,” Aramis said sharply. “Do not even begin to start blaming yourself for my inability to see past...”

“Little One,” D’Artagnan said softly, stopping Aramis mid-rant. “I will not blame myself but you will not blame yourself either. That I will not allow. Besides, you did well. You fought past it and helped them reclaim something I was not sure they would be able to. I am *proud* of you.”

“Master,” Aramis choked. He clung to D’Artagnan then, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. How could his Master say he was proud of him? He had needed to practically restrain him during the entire time. He had taken his Master’s attention away from those who needed it, deserved it. He had behaving so *poorly* and yet his Master claimed to be proud of him.

“I know you do not agree with me,” D’Artagnan smiled softly. “But it is not for you to agree or disagree with. I know it was hard for you. In truth, it was hard for me as well, but you made me proud in the way you held yourself together, in the way you looked after Athos, holding his hand and keeping him here with us so he could not get lost within himself again. I *am* proud of you, Little One, whether you think I should be or not.”

Aramis let his Master’s words wash over him and shuddered. He still did not agree that he had done anything to make the other man proud but he would not argue with his Master on this. Still, it was difficult. He felt that he had done wrong, behaving in a way that was not a clear and proper reflection on his Master and that… well, that merited a certain response.

“What is it?” D’Artagnan asked when Aramis remained silent. He could tell there was something that he wanted to say but was holding his tongue. He did not think it was simply to argue about whether or not he should be proud of him. While that was almost certainly part of it, D’Artagnan had an idea that it went deeper than that. 

“I am unsure what to say,” Aramis admitted. “I do not wish to disagree with you…”

“But you do,” D’Artagnan said. “First, let us sit down. Would you prefer to do so here or in my room?”

“We are not sharing with the others?” Aramis asked.

“Not right now,” D’Artagnan told him. “Perhaps later, but you and I need to discuss this first and I would afford you the privacy to do so without worry of censure.”

Aramis thought for a moment. If they remained here, there was a chance that Porthos could come looking for them. “Your room, please,” he said.

D’Artagnan took his hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly, then held onto it as he led him from the sitting room and to the bedroom he normally shared with Athos. Once there, he closed the door and even went so far as to turn the lock, ensuring that they would not be disturbed.

Once they were comfortably ensconced on the bed with D’Artagnan sitting up and Aramis lying between his splayed legs, his head on the younger man’s chest, D’Artagnan spoke. “Never think I do not want you to speak your mind, Little One, for I do. Always. Now, tell me what it is you disagree with me about.”

“I did not behave in a way that should elicit pride,” Aramis said, his eyes firmly fixed on his Master’s chest. 

“Why do you say that?” D’Artagnan urged gently.

“My behavior… it was… it was not right. It did not reflect on you as it should. I… I do not know how else to explain it.”

“You feel your behavior reflected badly on me, is that is?”

“Yes,” Aramis whispered.

“Can you explain how? I do not, as yet, agree with your assessment and I would know what you are basing it on.”

“I took your attention from them,” Aramis admitted miserably. “You were there… we were there to ensure that they were safe and did not lose themselves in past horrors. Yet I diverted your attention. What if one of them had needed you?”

“But they did not,” D’Artagnan reasoned, knowing already that it was a lost cause but having to try regardless.

“We were lucky then,” Aramis said glumly. “Or they were, I should say.”

D’Artagnan closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing evenly for a few moments. He did not like where this was going but he knew he could not shy away from it. He had taken on a measure of responsibility when he had accepted the title of Master from Aramis and he would die before he failed him in this.

“And what, do you think, would be a fitting… response… to such a, a lapse on your part?” D’Artagnan forced out. His words came out evenly but his heart was hammering in his chest.

“Whatever my Masters feels is correct,” Aramis tried to hedge.

D’Artagnan, however, was not having it. “No,” he said sternly. “You have something in mind. You will tell me, now, what it is you feel would be an appropriate response my part. I will decide what to do after that.”

“I should be punished,” Aramis said softly. He gripped D’Artagnan’s shirt tightly in his hands, balling the fabric in his fists. He was so scared that the younger man would push him away, disgusted with him and his failure to act as he should.

“Aramis,” D’Artagnan whispered, “look at me.” He waited until the other man turned his face up to his then leaned down and kissed him softly. 

“Master?”

“I love you, Little One, and I will never forsake you. Nor will I forsake my duty to you. When you say punished, am I to take it you mean physically?”

“Yes, Master,” Aramis replied. 

“I will not harm you,” D’Artagnan told him. “I know you mentioned punishment as a reason for being spanked and I am willing if that is what you need but it will go no further than that. Please, Little One, I cannot bear to be harsh with you. To do more than that would break me.”

“I will never ask for more than you can give me. Not ever. If I do, you have but to tell me.”

“Alright then,” D’Artagnan said, relieved. He thought for a moment and came to a decision. “If we are to do this, then we should do so now. I will not have you carry this guilt a moment longer and, in truth, I do not believe the others would be able to accept this. Not right now.”

“Would you rather we go to a different room?” Aramis asked, not wanting to somehow taint the room D’Artagnan shared with Athos. “Or perhaps the barn?”

“No,” D’Artagnan said. “I would do it here, in this room. I would be reminded of it every time I enter here.”

“Master…”

“This is as much a punishment for me as it is for you,” D’Artagnan told him. “For I knew this would be difficult for you, yet I allowed it to take place regardless. It was a risk I should not have taken and I am paying for it now.”

Aramis wanted to argue but he did not. He understood the weight of responsibility and how heavy a failure could be on a man’s soul. While he did not agree that D’Artagnan had erred, he knew that he believed it and that was all that really mattered.

“Do you wish to use my belt? Or perhaps one of your own?” Aramis asked as he rose from the bed and began to undress.

D’Artagnan actually paled at the thought of striking Aramis with a belt and had to swallow against the sudden nausea filling his throat. “My hand,” he managed to say. “My hand alone. I will not take a belt to you.”

Aramis took one look at D’Artagnan’s ashen face and quickly agreed. He had forgotten the boy’s overprotective streak for a moment. Normally, he would have balked at the idea of a hand spanking, arguing that it was not a punishment at all, but the knowledge that this was hurting his Master as much, if not more so, than himself would make it worse than any belting ever could be.

Once Aramis was completely naked, D’Artagnan moved to sit on the side of the bed. He gestured for Aramis to come and lay across his lap. When he was kneeling over him, D’Artagnan maneuvered him until his ass was centered over his lap. With his left hand, he pushed down between Aramis’ shoulder blades, pinning his chest to the bed and forcing his ass up a bit higher.

“There will be ten,” D’Artagnan said, his voice as cold and impersonal as he could make it. “You will count them and, at the end, you will thank me. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Master,” Aramis replied, his voice slightly muffled from being pressed against the bed.

Knowing that the sooner he started, the sooner it would be finished, D’Artagnan drew back his right arm and brought his hand down hard on Aramis’ upturned ass. The resulting crack was loud enough to startle both men and Aramis moaned at the pain that seemed to radiate up his spine from the blow. 

“Count!” D’Artagnan snapped when Aramis failed to say anything.

“One,” Aramis gasped out, struggling for his control. He had been spanked countless times before both for pleasure and for punishment. Never had one affected him so greatly and it was only the first blow. For the first time, he was unsure if he would be able to endure a punishment.

D’Artagnan did not hesitate, knowing to do so would not do either of them any favors. Drawing back his arm, he brought his hand down equally hard on the other side. He felt Aramis jerk at the impact and pushed down harder between his shoulders, keeping him pinned.

“Two,” Aramis gasped out as quickly as he could. The blows were stealing his breath, making it hard to get words out but he did his best to obey, not wanting to disappoint his Master further.

The blows fell quickly, one after the other. D’Artagnan tried not to overlap them too badly but there was simply no choice. He did not want to spank Aramis on his thighs, knowing the leaner area would hurt more. As it was, he was going to be bruised, something D’Artagnan tried very hard not to think about.

By the time they neared the end, Aramis was gripping the sheets in his fists. Tears ran down his face as he struggled to keep count as he had been told to. His backside felt like it was on fire and he had to force himself not to instinctively pull away from the pain he knew was coming.

Finally, the last blow fell and Aramis gasped out, “Ten. Thank you, Master.” His voice was barely above a whisper, as if he had spent the last little while screaming himself raw.

As carefully as he could, D’Artagnan moved Aramis off his lap and onto his side on the bed. His hand throbbed and Aramis’ ass was dark red. He knew it would soon start to turn purple in places, especially where his blows had overlapped. He had a feeling Porthos and Athos were not going to be happy with him when they found out, which would probably be as soon as Aramis attempted to sit down in their presence.

Pushing that thought aside with a shake of his head, D’Artagnan turned back to Aramis. “Oh my Little One,” he said as he climbed carefully onto the bed next to him and pulled him into his arms. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

“No, Master,” Aramis whispered back as he clung to D’Artagnan. “You did not…”

“Hush now. I know very well that I did. And I know that this was more intense than you thought it would be, but that is a discussion for another time. Just rest now and know that I am here and I love you.”


	58. Chapter 58

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I am massively unsure about this chapter (to the point where it may get taken down and re-written), but I have looked at it until my eyes are crossing so am posting it for now. Porthos refuses to go in any other direction so I'm rather stuck at the moment and d'Art isn't helping either. :S

Part 58

D’Artagnan did not sleep. Even as he held an exhausted and emotionally drained Aramis in his arms, he could not rest. He understood that Aramis had needed what they had done. He also understood that it had affected the man much more than he thought it would. That much was clear from the very first blow. Perhaps he should have stopped then. He had not, though, too worried about the demons Aramis still carried inside of him. The demons he rarely spoke of to any of them, always more concerned with Porthos and Athos and how they were faring. 

Maybe now, with a portion of his guilt at least somewhat assuaged, Aramis would be able to put this horror behind him as well. He hoped so, for all of their sakes. It was a step in the right direction, at least, he was sure of that much. He only wondered how much that step might yet cost him.

For it was not Aramis’ reactions, overwhelming though they were, that kept him from finding rest. It was the knowledge of the coming confrontation once the others became aware. D’Artagnan was neither naïve nor foolish enough to think they would simply accept that he had thought it in Aramis’ best interest and let it go. Porthos especially would be *displeased* with him when he saw the bruises that were sure to be mottling Aramis’ backside by now. And Athos, though he doubted he would express his displeasure quite as physically as Porthos would be apt to, would still look at him with disappointment in his eyes. D’Artagnan was unsure which might actually hurt worse.

For one cowardly moment he thought about trying to hide what he had done from them. He knew Aramis would help him to do so if he asked, but he shoved that thought away. The very idea was abhorrent to him. Better to face them like a man and accept whatever punishment they felt his actions warranted than to betray their trust a second time. He only hoped, when it was over, he was still allowed this, to be Aramis’ lover. Porthos and Athos would both be completely within their rights to demand he never touch him again. If they did, then he would abide, but he prayed it did not come to that. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Porthos awoke to the feel of Athos lying snug against him, his head pillowed on his chest. He knew at once that they were alone in the big bed as they were too sprawled out for the others to be with them. He knew he had not been sleeping long, perhaps only a few hours, but still wondered why the Whelp had not brought Aramis and joined them. Worried now, he tried to shift Athos off of him so he might slip from the bed without waking him.

“What is it?” Athos asked as soon as Porthos shifted beneath him. Years of being a Musketeer made him awaken at the slightest movement, even when sleeping safely with his lover.

“Aramis and the Whelp never joined us,” Porthos said. “I was just going to check on them.”

Athos frowned and sat up allowing Porthos to do the same. “I will go with you.”

“It’s probably nothing, love,” Porthos told him as he pulled on his breeches and handed Athos his own.

“Of course,” Athos agreed but he did not stop dressing. Like Porthos, he would not be able to rest until he was assured that their brothers were well.

It took them a few minutes but they finally decided to check the room that Athos and D’Artagnan normally shared. When they found the door locked, they knew both that they had found their wayward brothers and that something was wrong.

“Just a moment,” D’Artagnan called out softly as he slid from beneath Aramis’ sleeping form and padded over to the door. He had not bothered to undress before so was still in his shirt and breeches. Unlocking the door, he opened it just enough to allow him to slip out into the hallway then closed it again behind him. “He is still asleep. I do not wish to disturb him just yet.”

“What has happened?” Athos asked. He could see the worry in D’Artagnan’s eyes along with a host of other emotions that seemed to come and go too fast for him to be certain. He thought he saw guilt and shame and fear among them then the younger man was shuttering them away.

“Whelp, what’s wrong?” Porthos repeated when D’Artagnan remained silent.

“Can we not do this in the hall?” D’Artagnan asked, the weary resignation in his voice plain to hear. He knew once he explained that things were liable to get loud and he did not want Aramis to be awakened that way.

“Fine, sitting room it is,” Porthos growled. He clamped his hand on the boy’s shoulder and all but dragged him along. D’Artagnan let himself be led, not even protesting when Porthos shoved him down on the divan. 

“Porthos,” Athos admonished softly. They did not even know what the issue was yet. There was no reason to treat the boy so.

“Talk,” Porthos ordered, ignoring Athos.

“Aramis was having some difficulties dealing with the memories that watching your encounter brought up,” he began. “He has not spoken much of his own struggles in this regard. I knew, of course, that this would be hard on him. He and I spoke even spoke of it, but…”

“But?” Athos urged.

“But it was a bit harder on him than he… than we… anticipated. In the end, he felt he had behaving… inappropriately, that he had distracted me from my duty to the two of you.”

“What? ‘Cause he needed you to hold onto him?” Porthos asked, not quite understanding what D’Artagnan was trying to tell him. 

“Yes,” D’Artagnan replied. “He felt that by forcing me to look after him, I was not giving you two the attention that I should have. Luckily, you did not require my assistance more than the once.”

“And what is it you are not telling us?” Athos asked bluntly. For this all spoke of an Aramis that was upset with himself. It did nothing to explain the emotions he saw flitting through the boy’s eyes when he failed to conceal them.

D’Artagnan looked at them both and swallowed down the sudden lump in his throat. Unable to meet their eyes but refusing to look down, he locked his gaze on the far wall and told them the rest of it. “Aramis felt his behavior was a direct, and poor, reflection on his Master. He wished to be punished for it. I obliged.”

For long moments, the only sounds in the room were that of the three men breathing. D’Artagnan did not move his gaze from the wall, unable to bear the thought of what he might see. He could *feel* the anger pouring off of Porthos and thought perhaps it might have been best if he had told them separately so that Athos did not get caught in the cross-fire, so to speak.

“What the hell did you do to him?” Porthos growled out as he lunged forward and grabbed D’Artagnan by the throat. He lifted the unresisting man up and onto his toes, intent on shaking the answer from him if necessary.

“Porthos!” Aramis’ voice rang out from the doorway, startling all three of them. He was still completely naked, not having bothered to dress when he awoke to find D’Artagnan gone. “Release him this instant.”

With a snarl, Porthos shoved D’Artagnan back down onto the divan and stalked over to Aramis. “What did he do to you?” he demanded hotly as he reached out to grab him.

Aramis actually took a step back from him, though it was driven by anger rather than fear. “He did nothing I did not ask him to,” he told him. 

“And what did you ask him to do?” Athos asked as calmly as he could, hoping to diffuse the situation before someone got hurt.

“I asked him to punish me physically for my lapse,” Aramis said his voice stiff and formal. He was angry at having to explain himself, at having to *defend* himself to his lovers, as if he was not a man grown and able to make his own choices.

“And D’Artagnan agreed?” Athos prompted.

“Yes,” Aramis nearly hissed. “D’Artagnan… my *Master* agreed, though he would do no more than spank me and even then he would only use his hand on me.”

“Little One, even you must admit it was more than enough,” D’Artagnan said softly. 

Aramis looked at him then and let his features soften for the first time since entering the room. “Yes, you are quite right. I had not expected to react so. I had never before, even with much harsher punishments. But that is a discussion for another time.”

“How bad did he hurt you?” Porthos asked. He tried to keep the growl from his voice and mostly succeeded. 

“He did not hurt me at all,” Aramis replied. “My backside is a bit tender, as is to be expected.”

“Show me,” Porthos demanded.

“And if I say no?” Aramis shot back, folding his arms across his chest. 

“Show him,” D’Artagnan told him from the divan. “Show them both. We do not hide things from each other.”

Aramis hesitated then nodded. “As you wish,” he replied then turned around so his back was to the others.

Athos took one look at the bruises decorating Aramis’ backside and moved immediately to intercept Porthos. He reached him before he could get to D’Artagnan but his intent was quite clear. D’Artagnan did not move from the divan, merely sat where he was seemingly content to allow Porthos to do as he would. Aramis had spun around at the sudden commotion and was staring at his lovers in confused horror.

“How dare you?” Porthos snarled at D’Artagnan as Athos held him back. He had seen the bruises the boy had put on the other man. How dare he lift a hand to Aramis? How dare he strike him? What made him think he had the right?

Aramis looked at Porthos as he struggled in Athos’ arms and felt something inside him break. Dropping to his knees, he began to gasp. He felt like he could not get enough air. He had not meant to cause this. He had only wanted his Master to help take away his guilt. He had not meant to cause this rift between them. 

Suddenly, he felt hands on him, stroking along his back and arms. He could hear Athos and Porthos both telling him to breathe but it sounded like they were talking to him from a great distance. Finally, his breathing began to slow as his brothers continued to touch him and call him back to them. 

“I am alright,” he managed when he could finally draw in enough breath to speak. He gripped both Athos and Porthos tightly then so that neither man could move away from him. “Listen to me, both of you. He did not hurt me. He did no more than what I asked of him. Yes, I have a few bruises. Bruises that will be gone in a few days’ time. Tell me, Porthos, how are they worse than the bruises you put on Athos’ hips?”

Porthos had the good graces to look away then, realizing that Aramis was correct. There was no real difference. Both sets of bruises had been laid down at the bequest of their recipients. Both sets were relatively minor and would heal in but a few days. He had reacted poorly. Very poorly. Now he would have to find a way to undo the damage he had surely done.

“You’re right,” Porthos said. “I should not have acted as I did. I am sorry. I just… I cannot stand the thought…”

“Yes, well, I am sorry if my needs disgust you,” Aramis replied. Satisfied that Porthos was no longer a threat to D’Artagnan, he released his hold on both men and stood. “If you will excuse me, I will go and dress. Please try not to resort to bloodshed in my absence.”

“Aramis, wait,” Porthos called out, getting to his feet as well. 

“Let him go,” Athos said, putting a quelling hand on Porthos as he, too, stood. “He will return as soon as he has dressed.”

“Yeah, alright,” Porthos agreed reluctantly. Maybe he could use the few minutes to begin apologizing to the Whelp. When he turned back around to the divan, however, D’Artagnan was no longer there. He cast a glance at Athos and saw his own worry mirrored back at him. He did not think the boy had gone far but just the fact that he felt the *need* to run felt so very wrong.

“Should we look for him?” Porthos asked, unsure if they should go now or wait for Aramis to rejoin them. 

“I shall look for him,” Athos said. “You wait for Aramis. If I have not returned by then, you can join me in my search.”

“Aramis will kill me if I made the Whelp run off,” Porthos said.

“I do not think he has gone far,” Athos tried to assure him. “He would not simply leave. Not without at least speaking to Aramis first. I think he is merely attempting to give you space.”

“I wasn’t gonna hurt him,” Porthos said suddenly before Athos could leave. “Not really.”

“Porthos,” Athos said slowly. “Do not tell that lie, brother. Not to me. You were enraged that he had put his hands on Aramis in such a manner and it did not matter why he had done it.”

“Athos…”

“We shall worry about this later,” Athos told him. “Let us concentrate about finding him first.” With that, he hurried from the room and out through the kitchen. He would start with the barn and pasture. With luck, D’Artagnan had gone to be with the horses. It was what he normally did when he needed to think… or find comfort. 

Fortunately, Athos’ first guess was correct. He found D’Artagnan in the barn. He was going over his saddle, checking it. Athos frowned as he watched him from the entryway. When he saw the saddlebags lying near the younger man’s feet, he realized that D’Artagnan had gone to the barn to do more than simply think. 

“You are not seriously planning to leave, are you?” he asked as he stepped inside. 

“No,” D’Artagnan replied without turning around. 

“Then why the saddlebags?”

“It does not hurt to be prepared for any eventuality. Who knows when one will need to depart in haste.” He set the saddle aside when he finished and reached down to pick up the saddlebags. He draped them over the side of one of the stalls then turned around to face Athos. 

“Will you come back inside?” Athos asked. They needed to talk this out. Sooner rather than later. The longer this festered between them, the harder it would be to heal. But D’Artagnan was nothing if not proud. And he was not the one in the wrong. Not entirely, at least.

“I think it might be best if I give Porthos some distance,” he replied. “He has made his displeasure with me quite clear and I have no desire to cause further discord amongst my brothers.”

“He knows he overreacted,” Athos tried to reason. “Please, come back inside and let us talk this out.”

“He did not overreact,” D’Artagnan countered then sighed. “But I will return to the house with you if that is what you wish. I will not make him track me down to settle this. Just… do not let Aramis get between us. I would not see him hurt in this any more than he already has been.”

“I do not know what it is you think Porthos intends, but I assure you, it is only to speak with you,” Athos said.

“Forgive me, brother, if I find that difficult to believe.” Without another word, D’Artagnan walked past Athos and back toward the house. He only hoped Athos did as he asked and kept Aramis from getting between them.

When they walked back into the sitting room, they found Porthos pacing in front of the divan while Aramis, now fully clothed, stood by the fireplace once more. Both men tensed at their arrival with Porthos stopping mid-stride and Aramis turning to face them. D’Artagnan did his best to school is emotions. He already see how upset Aramis was by all of this and had no wish to upset him further. 

“Perhaps it would be best if Porthos and I took our discussion elsewhere,” he suggested, wanting the coming confrontation as far away from Aramis as possible.

“No,” Aramis said firmly, arms once more crossed over his chest. He had already shared some few words with Porthos over his behavior and while he was no longer worried about a physical altercation between the two, he still had no intention of leaving them alone together. 

“Little One,” D’Artagnan chided gently.

“No, D’Artagnan,” Aramis argued stubbornly. “I do not mean to disobey. You know I do not, but I will not bend on this. I am sorry.”

“Hush now, Aramis,” D’Artagnan told him. “I do not require your obedience. You have as much right to make your own decisions as any man here. I will not have you apologize for such.”

“Even when it goes against your wishes?” Aramis asked, surprise coloring his voice.

“Especially then. You are precious to me exactly as you are. I would not change that. I would not see you bent to the will of another for anything.”

“Ah that all my lovers would afford me such freedom,” Aramis said, smiling softly at the younger man. At least, if nothing else, the two of them were still alright.

Porthos had the good graces to look away at Aramis’ words, shamed by them all over again. “I’m sorry, love,” Porthos said. “I did not mean…”

“I am not the one you should be apologizing to,” Aramis interrupted tersely. 

“He does not need to apologize,” D’Artagnan said. “He was merely protecting his lover. As should be expected. I am only surprised that Athos has restrained himself, though he normally prefers to handle such things in a more private setting.” 

Porthos felt as if he had been struck. He stared at their youngest at a loss as to what to say to bridge the sudden gap between them. He knew the boy did not mean the harshness with which his words were taken but he had never felt like more of a brute in his life. And all of this *after* he had told him that he had no real problem with him giving Aramis a spanking if he desired it.

“Lad,” Porthos began in a choked voice. “I do not even know where to begin to make amends for this. I swear, I did not mean to lose my temper. Please…”

“Porthos,” D’Artagnan said, unable to listen to the man stammer out apologies, especially ones that were only offered due to Aramis’ insistence. “There is no amends to make. You believed that I behaved inappropriately toward your lover. Your reaction to such was justified.”

“D’Artagnan,” Athos began, looking back and forth between the two men. He could see the stricken look on Porthos’ face and felt his own heart twist at the boy’s words. He could understand the lad being upset, but could there truly be no forgiveness between them?

“I think perhaps we are all still more overwhelmed than we realize,” Aramis said, moving toward them. D’Artagnan’s words had chilled him as much as the others and he wondered what they might mean for all of them. “Perhaps it would be best if we let this lie for a while. I know you did not rest while you were with me. I must conclude it was the thought of this very confrontation that kept you from finding any peace.”

“I knew there would likely be problems,” D’Artagnan admitted. 

“I should not have put such a burden upon you,” Aramis said.

“Don’t,” D’Artagnan snapped. “I could have said no. I did not. I could have stopped. Again, I did not. The choice was mine and mine alone and I will not have you blaming yourself for this. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Master,” Aramis said at once. 

“I am sorry. I do not mean…”

“You do not mean for me to blame myself,” Aramis finished for him. “Which is the very reason you did what I asked of you in the first place. I do understand and I shall endeavor not blame myself.”

“Thank you, my Little One.” For a moment, D’Artagnan closed his eyes as a wave of melancholy washed over him. How much longer would he be allowed to call Aramis that? He knew this was not over. After all, Athos, who had objected the strongest to even the thought of Aramis being struck in any way, had yet to voice his own displeasure. 

“If you all do not mind, I think I would like to lie down for a bit,” D’Artagnan said wearily. “As Aramis pointed out, I did not manage to rest earlier and I find myself quite tired now.”

“Of course,” Athos said at once, almost glad for the reprieve. It would give them all time to think things through a bit and perhaps come up with a way to make amends to their rather stubborn Whelp.

As D’Artagnan strode from the room, Porthos turned to Aramis. “You’re not going with him?”

“No,” Aramis replied as he watched him walk away. “He does not want my company right now. He does not want anyone’s company right now. He is… too raw… for that.”

“Athos,” Porthos beseeched. “What do we do? How do we fix this?”

“I do not know,” Athos admitted. “But we will find a way. He has not left us, but Porthos, it was a near thing. When I found him in the barn, he was preparing his saddle as well as his saddlebags to travel. When I asked him why, he said one never knew when one would need to depart in haste.”

“Fuck!” Porthos swore angrily. “Everything we’ve done. Everything we’ve worked for and I ruin it. Boy thinks his place so precarious now he has to be ready to *run*.”

“He is still with us,” Athos told him. “Take heart from that, at least, brother. And as long as he is here, then there is a chance that we can fix this. Besides, I do not think he will leave Aramis as easy as all that. D’Artagnan takes his responsibilities very seriously. That includes those as Aramis’ Master. He will not simply cast those aside.”

“So he stays with us out of duty,” Porthos said forlornly. 

“Perhaps,” Athos admitted. “But it is better than the alternative. And it will give us time to rebuild the bonds between us."


	59. Chapter 59

Part 59

D’Artagnan lay awake on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. He could still smell the faint hint of Aramis’ scent and it calmed him somewhat, as it always seemed to these days. Part of him wondered how much longer he would be allowed such a privilege and he scowled. He did not think his brothers would deny him any contact *at all* with Aramis, but…

With a sigh, he forced that thought from his head. It would not due to borrow trouble. He would deal with that eventuality only when he was forced to. In the meantime, he had other things to concern himself with. Such as what to do about Porthos and Athos. He knew they were angry with him for what he had done to Aramis. As his lovers, they had every right to be. He had, after all, put his hands on the man in violence. Had any other man done so, D’Artagnan himself would have demanded satisfaction from him. At least his brothers had not gone so far as to draw blades against him.

Part of him, the small, insecure part, wondered how much of that was only due to Aramis’ presence in the room. If he had not been there, how different would things have likely gone? He knew in his heart he would never have drawn a blade against his brothers, even to defend his own life. But while Athos might be unwilling to strike down an unarmed opponent, an enraged Porthos would not necessarily even notice until the deed was done. 

Scrubbing his hands over his face roughly, as if to scrub the very thought from his mind, D’Artagnan practically growled. These depressing thoughts were doing him no good. He needed to calm down and figure out what to do to make things right between himself and his brothers again. But how could he? What could he offer them that would in any way make up for the pain he had caused the one man they held most dear? 

He remembered back in his village when he had been a boy and some trouble or other had arisen between the farmers. To keep the peace, they would appeal to the local priest. He would listen to both sides and then he would, more times than not, turn to his Bible for some sort of answer. Usually, it was something alone the line of an eye for an eye. Maybe he should try. Aramis, at least, would appreciate the irony of it, no doubt. 

That could be a problem, though, D’Artagnan mused. Aramis would not simply stand by and watch while Porthos and then Athos repaid him in kind for what he had done to their lover. It would need to be done out of his sight, where he could not interfere. That might prove tricky, but perhaps Athos would be content to allow Porthos to exact sufficient reparation for both of them while he kept Aramis otherwise occupied. That might work. Then… then they could be brothers again. 

A plan firmly in mind, D’Artagnan closed his eyes and let himself rest. He would need his strength for the ordeal to come. Porthos was a powerful man. He had no illusions about just how difficult this would be, but it if allowed him to keep his family then it would be more than worth the pain.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“We need to talk,” Aramis told them, his voice clipped and angry. 

“Aramis,” Athos began, hoping to avoid another scene. He did not think Porthos could take it, nor himself, if truth be told. 

“Let him have his say, Athos,” Porthos said dejectedly as he sat down on the divan. “Not like I don’t deserve it.”

“Yes, but it does not have to be now,” Athos argued but sat down beside him all the same.

Aramis walked over and stood in front of them. He did not move to sit but merely stood, looking down at them. “I love you, Porthos,” he began, the edge in his voice still easy to hear. “More than life itself. And I am sorry if my needs… if they disgust you.”

“Aramis, no!” Porthos denied, shaking his head angrily. “Nothing about you disgusts me. It could never.”

“And yet you attempt to throttle D’Artagnan over something I *asked* him to do,” Aramis continued softly. “God! How could I have been so stupid? I should have known better and now…”

“Aramis…” Athos whispered, not liking the fact that Aramis was blaming himself for this debacle.

“Well, it is not hard to see why some of my previous partners thought me deserving of much more humiliating punishments, is it?” Aramis smiled then but it was a sick sort of smile, the kind a man wore as he walked to the gallows and it made Athos’ stomach roil.

“Do not say such things,” Athos pleaded, unable to bear the thought. “We did not mean to react so and we will find a way to make it up to the lad. He has done so much for us and…”

“And we have done nothing for him,” Porthos spat. “Nothing but hurt him and… no wonder he was ready to run.”

“But he has not,” Athos reminded him. “And he will not, not as long as he has a reason to stay. We must simply continue to give him that reason, which Aramis will do until you and I can find a way to make amends.”

“Don’t know why *you* need to make amends,” Porthos said. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I did not do anything right, either,” Athos explained guiltily. “I may have stopped you from physically harming him, but I did nothing to defend him. In his mind, I am as enraged at him as you are. I am simply biding my time to strike.”

“You love that boy!” Porthos argued, stunned that Athos would think such a thing. 

“As do you.”

“But…”

“If one brother can turn on him,” Athos shrugged, “who’s to say they all cannot?”

Aramis listened to their exchange and it felt like he bottom had suddenly dropped out of his world. He staggered backward toward the chair and sat down heavily. Of course D’Artagnan would see this as a betrayal. But he would see is as *his* betrayal of them, not the other way around. Which meant there was no telling what the stubborn lad might try to do. 

“Aramis, are you alright?” Athos asked in alarm.

“No,” Aramis choked. “He will think… he will think he has betrayed us, or at least you two. You must be prepared for that.”

Porthos opened his mouth to argue then closed it and thought about what Aramis said. “Of course he will,” he said resignedly. 

“Porthos…” Aramis began then trailed off. He took a deep breath and forced himself to continue. “Porthos, if you need me to stop… stop what I am doing with… with D’Artagnan… you have but to say so.”

Porthos looked at his lover, looked at the distance between them and it had never felt so far before. “You really think I would do that to you, love? That I would deny you someone… someone you love?”

“Better that than to lose you altogether,” Aramis said honestly. “Or him.”

“No,” Porthos said with a finality that brooked no argument. “You ain’t losing me or him or anyone else. I know I messed up, but I’ll fix it. Whatever it takes, I’ll fix it.”

“And you, Athos?” Aramis asked then. “I know you understand the turn my relationship with D’Artagnan has taken even less than Porthos does. Would you have me end it? As I said, I would rather that than lose one of you.”

“As Porthos so eloquently put it,” Athos replied. “No.”

“Athos…”

“We shall fix this. It will take time and work and still more time, but he is worth it. You, Aramis, are worth it. So we shall fix what we so carelessly damaged because we did not fully understand and we shall never make this mistake again. I assure you, by the time we are done, our dear Whelp will know his worth to us, his place with us, and he will never doubt either again.”

“Those are very grand promises to make,” Aramis said. “It is not that I doubt you, but I am afraid.”

“You have more faith than the rest of us combined,” Athos told him. “Rely on that faith now. We will not fail you in this, love. We will not fail him.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

D’Artagnan turned his head when he heard the door to his room open. He was surprised when Aramis quietly slipped inside and closed the door behind him. He had expected it to be one of the others that came for him.

“I did not mean to wake you,” Aramis said as he moved toward the bed. 

“I was not asleep,” D’Artagnan assured him, “merely resting. I am surprised they allowed you to come here alone.”

“Since when do I require the permission of another to spend time with one of my lovers?” Aramis asked him as he sat down on the bed beside him. He longed to pull the troubled young man into his arms and just hold him but he knew better. D’Artagnan had that panicked look about him, the one he used to wear so often when they had first come here. Aramis knew if he moved too quickly, he would only end up making him run. 

“Since one of your lovers beat you black and blue,” D’Artagnan responded. 

“D’Artagnan,” Aramis gasped, unable to stop himself from reaching out and taking the younger man’s hands. “You did nothing that I did not ask for. You gave me what I needed, what no one else here could have and I thank you for that. I only regret what it has ended up costing you. I am so very sorry, love. I never meant for this to happen.”

“Not your fault, Little One,” D’Artagnan said, responding to Aramis’ distress automatically. “The decision was mine to make and burden is mine to bear. No feeling guilty, remember?”

“I shall try,” Aramis agreed, “but it is difficult when I see how very sad you are.”

“Do not worry yourself about me. I shall be fine. I will find a way to make amends with my brothers and we shall put this whole unpleasant business behind us.”

“You do not have anything to make amends for,” Aramis tried to reason.

“I do not think the others would agree with you in that regard,” D’Artagnan replied. “But let us not argue for I have had quite enough of that. Now, I need you to do something for me and you are not going to particularly like it, but I need you to do it anyway.”

“What is it?” Aramis asked warily.

“I need you to stay here while I go and speak with Athos and Porthos,” he explained. “If my talk goes as I think it should then Athos will come join you shortly.”

“And you and Porthos?” Aramis asked, dread pooling in his stomach.

“We will be otherwise engaged for a time. When we are finished, Porthos will come and let you know.” D’Artagnan was rather proud of the fact that he had managed to say all of that without flinching or looking away. He knew Aramis did not like the idea, he just hoped he would be willing to go along with it for all of their sakes.

“And you think, somehow, that this will help fix things between the lot of you?” Aramis asked, his disbelief quite clear.

“To be honest, it is the only solution I have been able to come up with,” D’Artagnan said. “Unless they have something else in mind, I do not know what else to do to make things right again.”

“And if I tell you that *you* are not the one that needs to make things right?” Aramis asked. “If I tell you that you are not the one that needs make amends in this matter?”

“I will tell you that I love you very much, but that you are mistaken.” 

In the end, Aramis did the only thing he felt he could and waited in the room as D’Artagnan had bade him. He did not like it but he trusted his other two lovers and he knew the boy would never speak freely if he was present. He was determined to shoulder the blame for this when, of all of them, he was the most blameless. 

As he waited, Aramis could not help but worry. Part of it was for himself and his relationship with D’Artagnan, assuming they still had one when all was said and done. He could easily see the boy pulling back from any sort of physical relationship with him at all. And while that would hurt more than Aramis cared to admit, he could understand it. 

What worried him more, however, was D’Artagnan’s seeming unwillingness to fight back or even defend himself. When Porthos had first grabbed him by the throat, the boy had done nothing. And when he had charged at him the second time, he had not even risen from the divan. He had simply sat and waited for him, as if it were inevitable. Did he think Athos had only stopped Porthos because he was in the room? Or, even more sinister, was it because he thought Athos might want to get his own licks in before Porthos got too carried away?

Shuddering, Aramis forced those horrid thoughts away and tried to think of what could be going on in the sitting room. He knew Athos and Porthos would not hurt the lad. He knew they were, even now, trying to make amends. What he did not know was whether or not they were getting through to him. Because in addition to being remarkably loyal, D’Artagnan could be remarkably stubborn as well, especially when he felt that he had wronged someone. Remembering Athos’ words, Aramis took out his rosary and began to pray. He had a feeling they were going to need all the help they could get.

Out in the sitting room things were not going well. As soon as D’Artagnan had entered the room, both men had started to rise but he had forestalled them, asking if he might be allowed to speak first. They had nodded and sat back down, not missing the fact that Aramis was not with the lad.

“Aramis is waiting in my room,” he began. “I asked him to let me speak with you alone first and he agreed. I would ask that you listen to my proposal in its entirety before you make your decision.”

“Alright,” Athos agreed, not knowing what else to do at this point. It was clear the boy had something he wanted to say to them but he doubted it was to berate them for their earlier mistreatment of him. 

Taking a deep breath, D’Artagnan tried to order his thoughts and then began. “When I was a boy in Gascony, the village priest often mitigated disputes. His normal recommendation was something along the lines of an eye for an eye whenever possible. I believe that to be the only fair way to make reparations to you for what I have done.”

He had to pause for a moment and look away, unable to meet his brothers’ eyes. He took another calming breath and made himself finish. “I have taken my hand to your lover in violence. It is only right that you return the same to me. Aramis, however, will never stand for such a thing. For that reason, I would suggest that Athos remain with him and that Porthos be allowed to… to extract payment for the both of you. Would that not be fair?”

By the time he had finished he was looking at the floor. He wanted to meet their eyes like a man but he simply could not. He felt shamed down to his bones and did not know how he would *ever* manage to look these men in the eyes again. Assuming, of course, they even gave him the opportunity to do so.

Seconds turned to minutes as nobody spoke. D’Artagnan, unable to lift his head, could not see the twin looks of horror on his brothers’ faces, nor the tears that fell from Porthos’ eyes as he struggled to simply breath.

“You… you want Porthos to beat you?” Athos asked at last, as if unable to comprehend the words.

“Yes,” D’Artagnan said softly. “It would allow me to make amends. And… and we could be brothers again.”

And that was simply more than Porthos could take. He was off the divan and across the floor to D’Artagnan in two quick strides. He jerked the younger man into his arms and held him tight, his face buried in his neck as hot tears flooded his eyes. 

“No no no no no,” Porthos moaned D’Artagnan’s neck. “Won’t never raise my hand to you. God, Whelp, how could you think... It’s not your fault. You’re not the one that did wrong, boy. It’s me. I’m the one should be apologizin’ and beggin’ for another chance.”

Before D’Artagnan could respond he felt a strong arm encircle his back and realized that Athos had risen and moved to join them. He looked at the man, at a loss as to what to do. He did not understand what he had done to make Porthos react so. He had thought his solution a sound one.

“You are not to blame here, D’Artagnan,” Athos told him gently. “We are the ones who betrayed *your* trust and we shall do whatever is necessary to regain it once more.”


	60. Chapter 60

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "talk" appears to be taking a bit longer than I thought so it may drag on a bit...

Part 60

With no small amount of trepidation, Athos left D’Artagnan with Porthos in the sitting room and went to check on Aramis. He needed to inform him of what had occurred as well. Maybe he would have some insight into how to convince their youngest that his *solution* was not only uncalled for but abhorrent. For Athos could not imagine raising a hand to any of his lovers, outside of training, regardless of the provocation. And he knew Porthos felt the same. That D’Artagnan was able to meet Aramis’ needs in this regard was actually a relief in Athos’ opinion. It meant there was no fear of Aramis feeling the need to go outside of their circle for such things. 

One thing that did bother him, however, was the reference Aramis made to past partners and humiliation. He knew this had to do with what they had discussed before and what D’Artagnan had practically ordered them to let go. He had a feeling that particular edict would not hold for much longer. He only hoped Aramis was strong enough to deal with whatever it was when it did come to light.

He paused for a moment outside the door to the room he and D’Artagnan shared. He had not missed the way the boy referred to it as *his* room now. That was something else that would need to be addressed, but that could wait. Right now, he needed to concentrate on Aramis.

“D’Artagnan?” Aramis called out hopefully when the door began to open. He knew his lover had told him that Athos would be the one coming to join him but he had still hoped. He was not at all comfortable with the idea of Porthos and D’Artagnan alone just yet. 

“No, sorry,” Athos said as he slipped inside and closed the door. He went to the bed and sat down, pulling Aramis into his arms as he did so. “He is fine. Porthos is with him and he will not allow anything to happen to him.”

“What is going on?” Aramis asked. The fear and worry had been gnawing at him ever since D’Artagnan had left. He had almost broken his word and gone in search of him twice but had forced himself to do as had been asked. 

“Our young Gascon…” Athos began, unsure of how to put this entire mess into words. “He is… He blames himself.”

“Of course he does,” Aramis sighed. “But I knew that. What I do not know is what this solution is he seems to have come up with. From the look of you, I take it you did not much care for it?”

“No,” Athos said succinctly. “He… I do not know how to say this…”

“Just tell me,” Aramis demanded, sitting up and looking Athos in the eyes. “Do not concern yourself with softening the blow. I already know it will be bad.”

“Very well,” Athos nodded. “He felt that the fault was his so the duty to make amends with his brothers was also his. He believed the only way to do so would be to allow us to… to pay him back in kind.” Athos stopped then and waited, knowing Aramis would understand his meaning all too well.

Aramis felt a wave of pain wash over him and closed his eyes as the color bled from his face. “He wanted…”

“Porthos to beat him, yes,” Athos supplied, not wanting Aramis to have to say the words aloud.

“My God,” Aramis gasped. “Why? Why would he think such a thing necessary?”

“In his own words? He raised his hand to our lover in violence. And his village priest in Gascony seemed to be quite fond of the adage of an eye for an eye.”

“And Porthos’ response to all this?” Aramis asked. He could see how much the very thought pained Athos. He could only hope that Porthos found it equally appalling. For it was one thing for Aramis to crave pain as a means of atonement… as a way to ground himself when he became overwhelmed. But that was not what D’Artagnan would have been seeking. He was not seeking the punishment for himself, but rather to see justice for his brothers.

“I have not seen him this distraught since we left the ruins,” Athos told him honestly. “That the boy thought he would… thought he even could… And the worst part is that D’Artagnan does not even understand why Porthos is so upset.”

“Then it is up to us to make him understand,” Aramis said as he stood. “I think… I think we have taken our dear Whelp for granted for far too long and it is past time we took care of him for a change. He has done so much for us and asked for nothing in return.”

“While I do not disagree, I think that shall prove more difficult than it sounds.”

“Oh, I have no doubt of that, but we shall do it all the same.”

“Yes. Yes, we shall,” Athos agreed. “But… what of you, love? How are you faring in all of this?”

“I… have been better,” Aramis admitted with a grimace as he ran his hand through his hair. “The thought of losing him… it terrifies me.”

“Me as well,” Athos told him. “But I do not think you have anything to fear in that regard. He appears as devoted to you as ever. It is Porthos and I who are at risk of losing all that we have found with him.”

“He will not give you up so easily, brother,” Aramis assured him. “You rule his heart, after all.”

“I would not be too sure of that,” Athos replied. “Perhaps once, but I do not think that still holds true.”

“Athos…”

“Peace, Aramis,” Athos told him. “I have not asked him as such and I will not. I do not care which of us he loves best. That he still loves me at all after this will be miracle enough.”

“He will never stop loving you, Athos,” Aramis said firmly. “And neither shall I.” He pulled Athos into his arms then and kissed him, pouring as much love as he could into it. He needed him to know that they, at least, were still alright. 

“Thank you,” Athos said when they finally drew apart. To know that he had not somehow pushed Aramis away as well with his mistreatment of D’Artagnan helped ease the knot of fear inside him and gave him hope.

Together, the two men returned to the sitting room. They found Porthos on the divan with D’Artagnan wrapped in his arms. It was hard to tell if he was hugging the younger man or attempting to keep him prisoner.

Aramis walked over to them without hesitation and crouched down in front of the pair. He took D’Artagnan’s hands and waited until his lover met his eyes. “You, my dear Whelp, are an idiot,” he said, smiling fondly. 

“This should not surprise you,” D’Artagnan returned, though his reply lacked his usual enthusiasm.

“No, it does not. But such flawed logic on your part certainly does,” Aramis replied.

“How is my logic flawed?” D’Artagnan frowned. In talking with Aramis he unconsciously relaxed against Porthos, some of the tension leeching out of his muscles.

“First and foremost, you did not raise your hand to me in violence,” Aramis reasoned. When D’Artagnan opened his mouth to reply, he merely raised his eyebrow and the younger man subsided. “You raised your hand to me, at my request. You were not angry. You were not seeking vengeance. You intended to cause no more pain than I wished to endure. And you would have stopped the very moment I gave any indication that I no longer wished to continue. None of those are the actions of a man begetting violence.”

“I still hurt you,” D’Artagnan argued but his voice was softer this time, more subdued.

“Again, no more so than I asked for,” Aramis replied. “And your village priest is an idiot as well if he could come up with no better advice than that. An eye for an eye may be fine if a neighbor’s dog makes off with another farmer’s chicken but that is about all it is truly good for.

“D’Artagnan, do you need this burden lifted from you? Is it too much to ask you to bear? You are so young and you have been through so very much. Even Athos and Porthos do not understand this… this need in me. If you no longer wish…”

“Hush, Little One,” D’Artagnan said softly. “I would no more willingly give this up than I would stop breathing. The choice, however, well it is not mine alone. And I am not sure the others will still allow…”

“The only ones who have a say in this are you and I,” Aramis told him.

“And there, you are wrong,” D’Artagnan replied firmly. “I told you before that I would not allow my relationship with you to harm what you have with the others. That still holds true.”

“D’Artagnan, we do not object to what you have with Aramis,” Athos interjected. “We may not understand a lot of it, but we do not object to it.”

“You did earlier,” D’Artagnan replied.

“And I was wrong,” Porthos answered, speaking up for the first time since Aramis had joined them. “I am so sorry, lad. And I know you don’t believe that. I know you think I am only saying it because Aramis told me to. That’s alright. Don’t know if I’d believe anything I said anymore either. But I swear to God above, I’ll prove myself to you again. I did it once. I can do it again.”

D’Artagnan listened to Porthos’ words and took in the worried looks of the other two men. He felt himself start to shake as everything inside of him seemed suddenly at odds. Fear and relief fought for control as he struggled to believe his brothers. He desperately wanted to believe them. The thought of losing any of them hurt so much but the thought of seeing Aramis every day yet never again being able to see his Little One was tearing him apart inside.

“Master?” Aramis queried softly as he saw the younger man start to tremble violently in Porthos’ arms. 

Porthos looked at Athos and Aramis in alarm, unsure what to do. He had not meant to upset the boy even more and was unsure what to do to help soothe him. Was he truly so lost to him that even his words could send him into a panic now?

All at once, D’Artagnan reversed the grip Aramis had on his hands and pulled the other man to him. He wrapped his arms around him and held him, burying his face in the side of his neck as he shook, unable to stop. “Thought I lost you,” he whispered in a voice he thought only Aramis could hear but that easily carried to the other two. “Thought they’d never let me near you again. Love you so much.”

“Oh, Master,” Aramis gasped as he held him back. He leaned forward, pushing them both back against Porthos, wanting D’Artagnan to feel him against his back even when they were like this. “You should have said.”

“Said what?” Athos asked as he moved closer so that he could press up along D’Artagnan’s side as much as he could, hoping the physical contact might offer some comfort.

“That he needed this… to be my Master… as much as I needed for him to,” Aramis answered. 

“Never want-wanted you to feel pressured,” D’Artagnan told him. “You won’t… won’t always need this. You need… need to be free to leave… to let it go.”

“I will never let you go,” Aramis told him.

“Maybe not me,” D’Artagnan conceded. “But you may not always need your Master and I did not want you to feel obligated.”

“And what about when you no longer need your Little One?” Aramis asked. “What about the obligation you feel?”

“I have needed my Little One my whole life. There will never come a day when I do not need him… need you,” D’Artagnan told him, meaning every word of it. 

“Oh, love,” Aramis said, leaning up and kissing him softly. “We shall figure this out. All of it. Just… do not run from us, please. We love you as fiercely as you love us and it terrifies us when you try to run from us.”

“I will not run,” D’Artagnan vowed. “But to pull back is instinctual at times. It is how I have learned to protect myself. But I will not leave you. Not any of you. For you are my brothers above all else and I will never abandon you.”

Deciding that was good enough for now, they let the discussion lapse by unspoken agreement. It took a bit of jostling as Porthos refused to relinquish his hold on D’Artagnan entirely, even after his assurance that he would not leave, but they finally managed to arrange themselves on the divan to everyone’s satisfaction. 

“I fear we will need to invest in a larger one of these,” Aramis mused as he was pressed between D’Artagnan in front and Athos behind. 

“As if you truly mind,” Athos teased, trying to return some semblance of normalcy to their interaction. He had caught both Aramis and Porthos glancing at him, as if worried about his reaction to D’Artagnan’s words to Aramis. They need not worry. He meant what he said. He did not begrudge the lad his relationship with Aramis, even if that relationship ended up superseding his own. He would simply count himself lucky to still be a part of his life. If that included the privilege of being his lover, all the better. If it did not, well, he really only had himself to blame in that regard. After all, it was difficult enough to lay oneself bare to those one trusted completely. To expect D’Artagnan to willingly make himself that vulnerable to him again was… unrealistic at best. 

“You are sad,” D’Artagnan said, noticing the emotions that flitted through Athos’ eyes and unable not to respond to the pain he perceived there.

“I am,” Athos admitted. “I have… made very great errors and I do not, as yet, know what they may cost me. I… I am afraid.”

D’Artagnan did not reply. He did not know what to say. He disagreed with Athos that he had done anything wrong but he knew there was no point in voicing as much. And he would never be so false as to offer insincere platitudes, not when he had no idea what the future might hold for any of them. Still, the sadness in his brother’s eyes tore at him and he ached to soothe it however he could.

“We are still together,” he offered. “I know it is not what you wish to hear...”

“It is a start,” Athos told him. “And more than we rightly deserve. Aramis spoke truly when he said we love you fiercely. Would that I had the words to make you believe that right now.” Athos’ soft chuckle was self-deprecating but he meant what he said all the same.

“May I ask you something?” D’Artagnan ventured. He was trying to trust what his brothers were telling him. Perhaps if he understood more he might be better able to.

“You may ask me anything,” Athos told him.

“Careful, Athos,” Porthos teased, though the words came out forced. “Boy might take you up on it.”

“He is entirely too good a soul for that,” Athos remarked. “But ask your questions, love. Whatever they might be.”

“You did not seem to react much to either my admission or the sight of the bruises I put on Aramis. I know it was not for lack of caring on your part. So I would like to know why.”

Athos was taken off-guard by the question but then realized he really should not have been. D’Artagnan had been looking for some kind of reaction from him since the beginning. His utter lack of one had to be confusing him greatly. 

“I am not altogether sure,” Athos began. “I think, at first, I was merely stunned. Then I was more concerned with Porthos’ reaction than anything else.”

“So you have yet to allow yourself to react is what you are saying,” D’Artagnan clarified.

“I suppose one could say that,” Athos said slowly. He recognized the dangerous water he was suddenly wading in and began to tread very, very carefully. 

“So… react,” D’Artagnan told him. He had drawn back inside himself somewhat, shielding his heart from the potential hurt Athos could cause. While he did not think there was much risk, he was still wary.

Athos closed his eyes and swallowed against the sudden bile filling his mouth. He did not want to do this. Not here. Not now. Not *ever*. But he owed D’Artagnan his honesty if he was ever to get the other man to trust him again.

“I was shocked,” he began.

“No,” D’Artagnan interrupted. “Not what you were, what you are. Tell me what you are feeling now. React to it now.”

“Very well,” Athos relented, steeling himself. “I do not like it. I do not like that you raised your hand to him and I do not care that it was at his request or because he felt he needed it or because he was on fire and you needed to beat out the flames. If I am to be completely honest, I will never like it. I will accept it, because Aramis is a man grown and should be allowed to live his life as he will, but I will never like it.”

“Thank you,” D’Artagnan told him. “I appreciate your honesty.”

“I will never lie to you, D’Artagnan. But know this as well, what I said does not solely apply to Aramis. I would not like it if it were Porthos being struck, nor you. We have enough pain in our lives as Musketeers; I see no need to bring more into it ourselves.”

“We already knew that, brother,” Porthos assured him.

“Were you angry?” D’Artagnan pressed. Athos had not appeared angry but he had not been able to really see his eyes at the time and they were the only true way to tell if Athos was bent on hiding it. 

“Yes,” Athos admitted, “but not at you. Not really. I was more angry at the situation… at whatever it was that made Aramis feel the need for such extremes. And… part of me… part of me was… grateful.”

“Grateful?” D’Artagnan repeated incredulously. 

“Is that so hard to believe?” Athos asked. “You know there is nothing Porthos or I would ever deny him. If this was something he needed then it would have either fallen to one of us or he would have had to have gone outside of our circle for it. In the spirit of continued honesty, I am afraid I find both prospects equally... unpleasant to consider.”

“And how angry were you with me, dear Athos?” Aramis asked. 

“I was not angry with you at all, Aramis.”

“But it was me and my needs, as it were, that caused all of this. Are you certain you were not angry that I could not simply be normal like everyone else?”

“I have never wanted you to be anything other than the man you are,” Athos told him sincerely. “We all have demons that drive us. Luckily, we also have brothers to help us combat those demons and keep them in check. I do not begrudge you those things that have made you who you are, Aramis, and I will not object to how you deal with them. But do not expect me not to be angry when your past causes you pain.”

“As we are whenever yours raises its head,” Aramis replied. “Or when we so much as think of whomever might have hurt our young Gascon so badly that he has taught himself that it is safer to pull away rather than to trust. Even in his brothers.”

“I am sorry,” D’Artagnan whispered. 

“No, lad,” Porthos said. “The fault is not yours, but in whoever did this to you. One day, when you can trust us again, mayhap you will tell us. But that is talk for another time. What Aramis says is true. Your pain is ours. Same as ours is yours. Even when we we’re the ones that cause it in the first place.”


	61. Chapter 61

Part 61

When D’Artagnan went to prepare their evening meal, Aramis insisted on joining him. He was still uncomfortable with him being out of his sight. He hoped time and rest would help quell the panic that arose in him whenever D’Artagnan was not within easy reach. If not, returning to the garrison was going to prove somewhat more difficult than anticipated. 

“I can manage this,” D’Artagnan told him for the third time. “You should go and join the others.”

“I would stay with you,” Aramis replied, as he had done on each of the previous occasions. He did not ask if the lad would rather he not. He did not want to chance it. 

“As you wish,” D’Artagnan replied, still rather subdued. It was not that he minded Aramis’ company, quite the opposite, in fact. He simply did not like taking up so much of the man’s time and attention that should rightly be spent on the others.

Aramis opened his mouth to speak then closed it again, his courage failing him. He had tried to broach the subject once already and had been unable to find his voice. He knew he needed to say something, preferably while they were still alone but he was afraid of the answer.

“D’Artagnan,” he began, gathering his courage and forging ahead. “You will stay with us tonight, won’t you? In… in our room?” 

“Are you certain that would be best?” he replied, keeping his back toward Aramis resolutely, though he was unable to hide his sudden tenseness. “I am sure Athos and Porthos have missed you and would like some time to reassure themselves that you are…”

“Please,” Aramis cut in softly, willing to beg if that was what it took to keep him with them. He could not stomach the thought of D’Artagnan sleeping *alone*. Not now.

D’Artagnan placed the knife he was using down on the counter and turned to face Aramis. “I will do whatever you wish me to,” he said as he pulled him in close and held him. “I am… I am simply unsure if the others…”

“They want you with us as badly as I do,” Aramis told him. “I do not even have to ask them to know this but I will if it will ease you.”

“No,” D’Artagnan replied. “I trust you in all things. If you say it is so, then it is. Now, let me get back to work or we will all be going to bed hungry tonight.”

While Aramis and D’Artagnan were busy in the kitchen, Athos and Porthos remained in the sitting room, each thinking of what they had done to contribute to the current situation they found themselves in. 

Athos knew Porthos did not think he should bear any of the blame in this, but he was wrong. He may not have tried to physically harm the other man but he had betrayed him all the same. In some ways, Athos felt his betrayal was the worse of the two. For D’Artagnan trusted him as both lover and mentor. For him to fail him in such a way undermined everything that was between them.

“Stop it,” Porthos grumbled as he watched Athos frown.

“I beg your pardon,” Athos said, quirking an eyebrow at the other man.

“You’re blaming yourself and you need to stop it,” Porthos told him. “You’re full of it to even think you’re to blame for this, but that’s beside the point. Blaming ourselves isn’t going to fix this and *that’s* the only thing that matters right now.”

“You are right,” Athos agreed. “I was blaming myself and such actions have no place here. We must concentrate on healing the wounds we have caused. Berating ourselves does no one any good.”

“So, any ideas?” Porthos asked, trying to lighten the somber mood somewhat.

“No,” Athos snorted. “Our greatest hope in this lies in Aramis.”

“Scary thought there,” Porthos teased. His words were still forced but they had the desired effect of eliciting a huff of a laugh from Athos.

“But true nonetheless,” Athos continued. “And Aramis… you know he is terrified of losing the boy. I do not know when their relationship changed quite so much but you need not look so worried. As I told Aramis, I am fine with it.”

“I find that hard to believe, brother,” Porthos said honestly. 

“I know,” Athos smiled. “So does Aramis. He is worried that I may take exception to D’Artagnan’s changing feelings. I promise, I do not. I am merely grateful that the boy still loves me at all. I will take him on whatever terms he wishes.”

“Are you really sure about that, Athos?” Porthos pressed. He could not help but worry about how this might affect them all. Aramis was, quite clearly, the center of both his and Athos’ worlds. Was Athos really prepared for him to be the center of the Whelp’s as well?

“I am,” Athos said with as much conviction in his voice as he could muster. “This is not something new to me, Porthos. I have seen the signs and have been content to watch them. I suppose I could have put a stop to it. I could have lessened their time together or interfered in some other way, but what kind of brother would I have been to either of them to do such a thing?”

Porthos nodded slowly. He could understand Athos’ reasoning. Had he noticed it himself, he probably would have done the same thing, but he was not as attuned to the relationship between Athos and the boy and had not seen the subtle pulling away of one from the other. 

“What bothers you so much about it?” Athos asked, genuinely concerned. He had not expected Porthos to be this bothered by the revelation. 

“A man should have someone that… that loves him above all others,” Porthos said, unable to meet Athos’ eyes just then. He realized that, if not for him, Athos would already have that with Aramis and he felt a fresh wave of guilt. 

“Porthos,” Athos chided gently. “I am blessed beyond measure that I have both brothers and lovers that cherish me. The fact that Aramis loves you best does not hurt me. I know you find that impossible to believe, but it does not. I am *happy* for you and I am *content* that Aramis and you and D’Artagnan love me as you do. I need no more than I have right now.”

“You are a far better man than I, brother.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

While dinner ended up being more subdued than was their usual, it was not nearly as somber as Aramis had worried it might be. It seemed that Athos and Porthos were determined to act as normally as possible and actively drew D’Artagnan into the conversation whenever the younger man tried to withdraw. 

Afterward, they retired to the sitting room. Porthos built up the fire while Athos and Aramis practically carried D’Artagnan to the divan, settling him firmly between them before he could even start to protest. They gave him a bit of space as they waited for Porthos to join them, not wanting him to end up feeling trapped. When Porthos came over, however, they had to shift and D’Artagnan ended up with Aramis pressed firmly against his side, his hand held tightly in the other man’s.

“I already said I would not run,” D’Artagnan muttered as they seemed to almost close ranks around him.

“You do not need to leave us physically to run from us, love,” Aramis told him. “We simply wish you to know that we are here and that we want *you* here with us as well. If this is too much, though, you have but to say.”

“No,” D’Artagnan said quickly before Aramis could pull away. “I do not mind it. It… it is nice to feel such closeness.”

“We have not done well in making sure you were taken care of,” Porthos said. “You have needed us, needed us closer at the very least, and we have not been there for you.”

“It is not your fault,” D’Artagnan said automatically.

“Whose fault is it if not ours?” Porthos asked. “You, who have fought for us, protected us, guarded and sheltered us, and have asked for nothing in return. And that is exactly what your brothers have seen fit to give you. Nothing.”

“Porthos…” D’Artagnan frowned. He could hear the distress in Porthos’ voice and it hurt to know he was the cause of it. 

“I am shamed by the way I have treated you. I owe you my very soul, lad. That I could have forgotten that debt…”

“There was no *debt* to forget, brother,” D’Artagnan told him sternly. “All that I did… all that I still do… I do because…”

“Because?” Athos queried when D’Artagnan hesitated.

“Because you are my brothers and I love you all more than anyone or anything in this world. There is nothing I would not do for any one of you. That I have not spoken of my needs is my failing, not yours. But, you must understand, it has not always worked out well for me when I have made my needs… my desires… known.”

“Will you tell us?” Athos asked, hoping to get some insight into why their youngest was so reluctant to trust them at times. 

“Yes,” D’Artagnan agreed somewhat reluctantly. “Just… not now, please. I… I am too… I must be calm to even attempt to speak…”

“That is fine,” Aramis said quickly, unable to listen to him stumble over his words a moment more. “When you are ready to tell us we shall be here for you.”

“Thank you,” D’Artagnan said, squeezing Aramis’ hand tightly. 

Athos hesitated a moment then leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to D’Artagnan’s temple. He wanted so very much to pull the younger man into his arms and kiss him until the fear left his eyes and he finally relaxed. That, however, was unrealistic in the extreme. He needed to earn the right to such liberties again.

There was another subject Athos wanted to broach but he was unsure if he should. He did not know if his lovers were emotionally able to handle it on top of everything else. Aside from that, D’Artagnan had already told them to leave the subject alone until such time as Aramis wished to speak of it. Athos had to wonder if Aramis’ seemingly off-hand comment could be construed as such.

“What is it?” Aramis asked, taking in the combination of concern and determination on Athos’ face. It was clear there was something he wanted to say but was hesitant to do so. Aramis thought he might have an idea about that but he was not sure. Nor was he sure he wanted to speak of it regardless.

“There is something else I would have us discuss but I am unsure if now is the best time,” Athos said choosing his words carefully.

“And that would be?” Aramis prodded.

“Before, when you were speaking to Porthos and I, you made mention of previous partners and their… punishments,” Athos began, his eyes never leaving Aramis’. “You said that we could now see why some of them thought you deserving of more *humiliating* punishments. Would you… would you tell us what you meant by that?”

“No,” D’Artagnan said sternly, turning toward Athos so that he was partially blocking Aramis from his view. “He will not. He does not wish to discuss it and you will not ask it of him.”

“D’Artagnan, he obviously wants to talk about it to some degree or he would not have said what he did,” Athos tried to reason.

“Athos, do not cross me in this,” D’Artagnan warned him. “And I do not care what he alluded to when he was *distraught*. When he comes to you and says he wishes to discuss it, then you will know and not before.”

“Master…”

“Do you or do you not trust me to protect you in this?” D’Artagnan asked softly, still facing Athos. 

“I do,” Aramis said.

“Then kindly do so,” D’Artagnan told him. “I am sorry, Athos. I do not mean to be harsh especially now…”

“As Porthos is so very fond of saying, do not apologize for protecting him,” Athos smiled. “Even from one of us. I am the one that is sorry. I mistook Aramis’ words to mean he did wish to speak of it. The mistake was mine.”

“I cannot,” Aramis said softly, his voice sounding much smaller than it normally did. “Maybe… someday… but not now.”

“Then we will not bring it up again,” Porthos said from behind him. He wrapped his arms around Aramis’ middle and held him, his chin coming to rest on his shoulder after planting a kiss on the side of his neck.

Aramis let himself relax back against Porthos, trusting his lovers to keep their word and not bring the subject up again. He knew that D’Artagnan would be speaking to him about it. It was unreasonable to expect is Master to protect him from something that he had no knowledge of. He knew that he could trust D’Artagnan with the knowledge, though. D’Artagnan would listen and he would know Aramis’ shame but he would not look at Aramis differently because of it. 

It was not that he did not trust Athos and Porthos to look past what he had done, what he had allowed to be done to him, but that was just it. They would have to look past it. D’Artagnan would not. He would see it and, while he would not particularly like it, he would accept it as part and parcel of what made Aramis the man he was. 

“I think it is long past time for us all to retire for the night,” Aramis suggested. He felt D’Artagnan stiffen next to him and tightened his grip on his hand encouragingly. 

“As you wish,” D’Artagnan said softly, giving the hand he held an answering squeeze before rising and pulling Aramis up as well. 

“We are all… Together, that is?” Porthos asked, unsure quite how to voice the question.

“Yes,” Aramis said decisively. “Unless you would rather…”

“No,” Porthos said and quickly got to his feet. Athos did the same and they made their way to the room they collectively considered as theirs. 

D’Artagnan hesitated for a moment at the threshold but Aramis’ whispered, “please” was enough to get him moving through the doorway and into the room. The plea in that voice was not something D’Artagnan thought he would ever be able to refuse and he was not sure he wanted to. If it made his Little One happy for him to lie with the three of them then that is what he would do, no matter that he would feel more comfortable on his own right now. He understood that it was only his attempt to pull back once more that made him desire solitude so he would fight it. He would fight it for his brothers, his lovers, his Little One and, not least of all, himself.

Athos and Porthos did not miss D’Artagnan’s slight hesitation, nor did they miss Aramis’ whispered plea or the boy’s immediate capitulation. Catching Porthos’ eye, Athos grinned at him. Aramis would most definitely be keeping the lad close. For that, Athos was more than grateful. As long as he was here, they could reforge the bonds between them and this time they would not take their Gascon for granted. This time, they would make sure he understood just how integral he was to all of them. 

They ended up as they usually did with Athos pressed against the wall and D’Artagnan and Aramis in the middle, leaving Porthos on the outside as he preferred. They could all tell that their youngest, for all his agreement to join them, was still somewhat tense.

“Nothing more need happen than this,” Aramis assured him. “That you would lay with us is more than enough.”

“But you wish for it to,” D’Artagnan said.

“We wish for no more than you are comfortable sharing,” Athos told him. He was spooned up against his back and carefully slid his arm around his waist to hold him. 

“I… I find myself… unsure,” D’Artagnan admitted, blushing faintly to sound so young and inexperienced to these men. 

“I know you do not altogether trust our words right now and we do not blame you,” Porthos began. “But if there is anything that we might do for you… to show you a modicum of our care… please…” 

“That is not necessary,” D’Artagnan replied.

“Hang necessary,” Porthos growled. “Necessary has naught to do with it.”

“Then what does?” D’Artagnan asked.

“Love,” Porthos said. “Care. Trust. The fact that you will give and give until you have bled yourself dry for the likes of us yet never ask for anything for yourself.”

“I have all that I need,” D’Artagnan told him. He reached out then and placed a hand on Porthos’ arm. “I have my brothers and lovers by my side. I have forgiveness and understanding where others would have already cut their losses.”

Porthos had no words for that. He looked to Athos and Aramis, hoping one of them could offer something in response. “You are a wonder,” Aramis told him. “You say you have all you need. We shall not argue that. But do you have all you want? For I do not think you do.”

“There are many things I want,” D’Artagnan agreed. “Not the least of which is to see the Cardinal strung up by his bollocks. Don’t think I’m going to get that any time soon.”

“D’Artagnan!” Aramis gasped in mock horror. “How could you? I hereby forbid anyone from mentioning the Cardinal while in bed with me. Or near any bed with me. Or any sufficiently horizontal surface at all.”

“I am sorry, love,” D’Artagnan laughed, feeling some of the tension leave him as he did.

“Tell us,” Athos urged. “Tell us what we can do for you... how we can make you feel good.”

D’Artagnan hesitated, biting his lip. He looked at Aramis then past his to Porthos. The twin looks of hope that he would accept what they were offering were more than he could withstand. “Could we… like before? The first time, that is… when Aramis and I…”

“Oh,” Aramis said, understanding. “You want us to pleasure each other while Athos and Porthos watch and… and rub against us again. Is that it?”

“Yes,” D’Artagnan said breathlessly. Just the thought of that first time still excited him. The knowledge that he had brought not only Aramis but also Athos and even Porthos, to some degree, pleasure was heady and he longed for that feeling again.

“Are you quite sure you wish my hands upon you?” Athos asked. “I do not mind merely watching if you would prefer it.”

“You are my lover, are you not?” D’Artagnan questioned back, making his answer quite clear.

“Yes,” Athos said and he felt the fear inside of him ease a little bit more.

“And you, Aramis?” Porthos asked. “I can content myself to watch if you would prefer it.”

“I will always want your hands upon me, my love,” Aramis told him as he leaned his head back and kissed him. “Never doubt that.”

They stripped out of their small clothes, tossing them over the side of the bed haphazardly. Once they were all naked, they laid back down. D’Artagnan slid his hand into Aramis’ hair and used it to pull him forward. The kiss he shared with him this time was filled with all the pent up desire inside of him. He kissed and nipped at Aramis’ mouth until the other man gasped, then he slipped his tongue inside tasting him deeply. He moaned as Aramis stroked his tongue with his own and his hips gave an abortive thrust that was held in check by Athos’ firm hands.

“God,” Porthos groaned as he watched the pair kissing mere inches away. He glanced at Athos and saw the same lust he felt coloring the other man’s face. He reached out then and took Aramis’ hips in hand, holding him as he had before, allowing him only as much as D’Artagnan was willing to give him.

“You two are so beautiful together,” Athos whispered into D’Artagnan’s ear, his breath making the younger man shiver even as he kissed Aramis harder.

When they broke apart, both of them were breathing hard and D’Artagnan had to take a moment to regain his control. Aramis, however, was not content to remain idle. He let his hand roam over D’Artagnan’s body as he had not done before, stroking his sides and stomach before coming up to gently roll his nipples as the boy had done to him the last time.

“Aramis…” D’Artagnan moaned out as he tried to thrust again but was held in place by Athos once more. “Want you to fuck me so bad…”

“Oh fuck,” Porthos gasped, the boy’s words going straight to his cock. He could picture it so clearly. D’Artagnan on his back, him and Athos holding him open while Aramis slid inside him. He made a hasty grab for his cock to keep from spending at the thought and rubbed himself against Aramis’ hip.

“You want that?” Athos asked still speaking almost directly into his ear. “You want to feel Aramis inside of you? Taking you?”

“Yes, yes, please,” D’Artagnan panted. As if suddenly remembering that he had hands of his own, he reached out and took Aramis’ hardness in hand. He stroked it once from root to top, using his thumb to spread the sticky fluid that had already begun to bead at the tip. Then he was stroking him hard and fast, intent on making his lover spend between them as he had the last time. 

Aramis was so taken by surprise at D’Artagnan’s words that he froze, unable to respond. The thought of fucking the other man, of feeling their dear Whelp taking him inside of himself, was nearly enough to make him spend on its own. When D’Artagnan reached out and boldly began to stroke him, desire slammed into him with a force Aramis had never felt before. He unconsciously gripped down tightly on both of D’Artagnan’s nipples, making the younger man cry out. That sound, coupled with the younger man’s words and the feel of his hand roughly stroking him was enough to send him over the edge. With a strangled shout, he began to spend, covering D’Artagnan’s hand with his seed as pleasure surged through him again and again.

When Aramis came back to himself, it was to the sound of D’Artagnan moaning, “please” over and over again as he fought against the grip Athos had on his hips. Grabbing the younger man by the back of the neck, he pulled him into a hard kiss and reached out to take his flushed cock in hand at the same time. D’Artagnan’s surprised shout was muffled by Aramis’ mouth as they kissed and bit at each other’s mouths while Aramis did his best to drive him mad with just his hand. As it was, it was only the matter of a few firm strokes before D’Artagnan’s body was seizing up and he was spending as well, his seed joining that of his lover’s between them.

Watching the frantic coupling of their lovers was more than Athos and Porthos could withstand. Holding their lovers firmly in place, just as they had the last time, they thrust against them, rubbing their erections against them until they, too, began to spend, their seed striping their lovers’ hips as they panted and shook through their pleasure.

It took much longer this time for any of them to come down. Finally, Porthos managed to rouse himself enough to grab one of their discarded undergarments and drag it back to the bed so he and Athos could clean them up as best they could. Even as they did so, the two men in the center merely clung to each other and let themselves be tended to, too spent in every way to be of any help.

Once they were clean enough to allow them to rest comfortably, Porthos threw the soiled garment back over the side of the bed and curled around Aramis once more. Athos did the same to D’Artagnan, once again wrapping his arm around the younger man’s waist. This time, D’Artagnan twined his fingers with Athos’ and pulled him tighter against him as he closed his eyes and let sleep claim him, safely nested within the grasps of his brothers.


	62. Chapter 62

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter gets a bit darker as Aramis' past is discussed.

Part 62

It was no surprise the next morning when they awoke to find that D’Artagnan had already risen from their bed. How the lad managed to do so without waking any of them was a mystery yet to be solved. 

“He has always been an early riser,” Athos said, knowing D’Artagnan’s absence would not sit well with the others right now. In truth, he did not blame them. He did not like the thought of the lad out of his sight either.

“Well, he is most likely in the kitchen,” Aramis mused. “But since he has seen fit to give us a moment together, I do have something I would speak with you about.”

“What is it?” Porthos asked a touch of wariness coloring his voice.

“Nothing bad, dear Porthos,” Aramis assured him. “I simply wanted affirmation as to whether or not Athos was serious about what he said last night.”

“I am afraid you will need to be more specific than that before I can say,” Athos told him. 

“About… well, about me taking D’Artagnan as he has requested,” Aramis said, falling back on the comfortable formality of words to help ease what could end up being an uncomfortable discussion.

“I have no objection if you wish to fuck him,” Athos said softly. “Not if it is something you both want. The only thing that troubles me is that you feel the need to seek my permission at all. I have no right to tell you how to comport yourselves with each other. Your relationship is your own and I have no right to interfere.”

“You have every right,” Aramis told him. “D’Artagnan is correct in that much. What we do together will never be allowed to hurt those we love. Not intentionally, at any rate.”

“Aramis…” Athos sighed. “I know I will not convince you otherwise so I will not try. Know that you have my blessing in this if that is what you so desire. Just… be good to him. He deserves that above all else.”

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

Out in the barn, D’Artagnan sat on the low stool near the back and worked on Aramis’ saddle. It was the most ornate of all of theirs and he took his time with it, giving both the leather and the silver embellishments the care he felt they deserved.

He had awoken before sunrise and been unable to fall back asleep. Not wanting to wake the others, he had slipped quietly from their bed and dressed. He had laid out a simple breakfast for them then retired to the barn to lose himself in the soothing repetitions of his work and to think.

He knew that he needed to talk to Aramis about the secrets he was keeping. He understood Aramis’ reluctance to speak of it and he did not want to push. However, he could not effectively protect him from something he had little to no true knowledge of. Not to mention the fact that it gnawed at him to think that there were those out there that had harmed Aramis so badly that he would hide it even from them. When D’Artagnan finally found out who they were, if they were not already dead, they would wish they were by the time he was finished with them.

Sinking himself into his work, D’Artagnan did not realize how much time had passed until he heard the barn door quietly opening. He looked up and smiled when Aramis walked in. “Not eating with the others?” he asked as he set the saddle aside and wiped his hands on his breeches.

“We have long since finished breakfast,” Aramis laughed. “I simply grew tired of waiting for you to return and decided to come find you.”

“Sorry,” D’Artagnan said, ducking his head sheepishly. “The hours tend to get away from me at times.”

“We know, love,” Aramis said as he came over and sat down on the straw covered floor next to him. He leaned back against the wall of one of the stalls and regarded his young lover carefully. “If you would rather have solitude…”

“No,” D’Artagnan told him as he moved off the stool he was on to sit on the floor next to Aramis. “I would much rather talk to you.”

“Then we are of an accord for I would speak with you as well.”

“Would you like to start?” D’Artagnan offered.

“And that is not auspicious at all,” Aramis said, looking at him askance. 

“Some of the things I wish to discuss with you, you may find… upsetting,” D’Artagnan said gently.

“Ah,” Aramis replied. “I had wondered how long you would let that lie. No, don’t… I understand. If I am to trust you in this then you must have at least some understanding of what *this* is. I will tell you what you want to know, but I ask that you keep the information to yourself. I am not ready for the others to know. I know they would not judge me…”

“I will not speak of this to them,” D’Artagnan promised. “When you are ready for them to know, you shall tell them yourself.”

“Thank you, Master,” Aramis replied. He reached out and took D’Artagnan’s hand in his and held it tightly. “I… I will tell you as much of it as I can. I… It…”

“Breathe, Little One,” D’Artagnan told him. “And take your time. I only need to understand the nature of what occurred. I do not need to know every little detail. Not if you do not wish to share them.”

Aramis took a few steadying breaths and slowly began to talk. “I know that you consider this part of your responsibility as my Master and, for that, I am grateful. I have never had anyone who… who cared for me in that regard the way you do.”

“You have not always chosen well when it comes to love,” D’Artagnan said. “But you have us now and we will not allow you to be hurt in such a way ever again.”

“I know,” Aramis said. He turned and kissed D’Artagnan briefly then sat back and forced himself to talk. “I had a mistress. One of several at the time actually. She was married but insisted that her husband had mistresses of his own and paid her no mind. Fool that I was, I believed her. It did not happen the first time we were together. I think we had been seeing each other for over a month before the… the incident occurred. 

“She liked to whip me, you see. I did not mind. You know I enjoy some small amount of pain and she was not overly harsh with her whip. She never struck me anywhere sensitive. She never did any harm so I saw no reason to object when she said she wanted to try it with me restrained.”

D’Artagnan said nothing. He knew better than to interrupt Aramis. If he stopped him now, he might never get him to start again so he sat beside him, still as stone and clamped his mouth shut as Aramis took deep, calming breaths once more.

“It started much the same once she had me tied. I was draped over one of the chairs in her boudoir my arms and thighs lashed to the legs of it, leaving my back fully exposed to her. It was not long after she started whipping me again, that her husband came barging in.”

Aramis could see it in his mind as clearly as if it had just happened. He had struggled to break free but she had tied him too tightly. He looked up when he heard her cry out and saw her husband grabbing her roughly by the hair and dragging her over to the bed. He had thrown her down on the floor beside it and quickly lashed her to the oaken bedpost. Had Aramis been thinking properly he would have wondered where the rather conveniently placed rope had come from. However, he was more preoccupied with whether or not he was about to be summarily executed by the irate husband now towering over him. 

“Obviously, he did not kill me,” Aramis laughed darkly. “And I know now of course that she was in on it with him but at the time I thought her in as much danger as I. He picked up the whip she had dropped and I had about a second to realize what he was going to do before he lashed me with it.”

The man had laid into him half a dozen times before stopping. Aramis had nearly bitten through his lip to keep his cries in. This was not the titillating play he had enjoyed with his mistress. This was a raw, screaming pain that seared him like a brand. He had given Aramis a choice then, fisting his hand in his lank hair and jerked his head up so far it felt as if his neck might snap. He could endure the lash or he could watch while the man’s whore of wife did in his place. 

“Well, I think you know which I chose,” Aramis continued. “At least which one I tried to. He… he did not hold back. He was a somewhat large man, though not portly. No, he was strong, well-muscled and no stranger to wielding a whip. I tried to keep from crying out, to be strong but… well… a man can only hold out for so long. He did not even stop when his arm grew tired, you see. He simply… switched hands and kept going.”

D’Artagnan had to close his eyes against the images Aramis’ words brought to mind. He could see it all too clearly – Aramis, bound and helpless, allowing himself to be… be tortured to protect another. He swallowed around the rising bile in his throat and squeezed his lover’s hand reassuringly even as he prayed this horrific tale ended soon.

“Eventually, I even begged him to stop,” Aramis admitted, his voice sounding smaller than D’Artagnan had ever heard it before. “He found *that* rather amusing. The proud Musketeer begging for mercy. He did stop then, though. At least for a moment. Long enough to give me a choice once more. Can you guess? Yes, I see that you can. Me or her. He said he would stop at once, all I had to do was agree for her… for his wife… my mistress… to take my place under the lash.”

“And you did,” D’Artagnan said for him, tears filling his eyes and falling unhindered down his face.

“And I did,” Aramis confirmed. “Though not right away at least. I managed to hold out for another dozen or so lashes before I simply… could not. She cursed me then. Called me a coward and a disgrace. Begged me not to let him hurt her. I… I was so numb at that point. The memories, they are a bit jumbled. I think I tried to tell him not to hurt her, to take it back, but I cannot be sure.

“He did beat her, but I realize now that it was nothing like what he had done to me. It was more like what she and I had done together before. She cried out and begged and wailed but most of that was but a sham. He was not hurting her. He never intended to hurt her. He was merely… entertaining her and I was the entertainment of choice.”

Aramis shuddered as the memories of those final moments reran themselves through his mind’s eye. Her husband had laughed down at him, still bound to the chair. He had pulled his wife over to his side and Aramis had looked up at her. The smile that alighted her face let the final pieces of their deception tumble into place. He had started to curse when her husband had fisted his hand in his hair once more and jerked his head back again. He barely had time to close his eyes and clamp his mouth shut before he was being pissed on, his former mistress’ squeal of delight as she watched was a sound he would never be able to forget.

“He freed one of my hands then and placed a dagger where I could just barely reach it if I strained,” Aramis said matter-of-factly, finishing his horror story. “By the time I managed to cut myself free and clothe myself, they were long gone.”

“And you never told anyone?” D’Artagnan asked though he already knew the answer.

“No,” Aramis replied succinctly. “I returned to my quarters, scrubbed myself raw, poured a bottle of brandy over the wounds on my back and bound them as best I could. After that, it was just a matter of avoiding Porthos’ overly enthusiastic shoulder pats until I was healed.”

“Will you tell me their names?” D’Artagnan asked. It was the question that burned the brightest in his mind at the moment.

“So you can murder them in their sleep and end up swinging for it? I do not think so, love.”

D’Artagnan clenched the fist of his free hand then made himself relax. He could understand Aramis’ reasoning. He would be reluctant to put one of his brothers in danger for something that happened in the past as well. There was, however, something else that was bothering him.

“May I ask you something?” he ventured, not wanting to make Aramis endure any more of this conversation if he did not feel up to it.

“I expect you have a great many questions at this point. Ask them and I will do my best to answer.”

“You said before that you felt shame for this. I can understand that, to a degree. But you also said that you behaved dishonorably. I do not see how you can say such a thing.”

Aramis looked out across the barn, letting his eyes settle on the far wall. Leave it to the boy to ask one of the more difficult questions. Or perhaps it was not so difficult after all. Of all of them, he thought D’Artagnan might understand best. “I chose to let another be whipped in my place – and a woman, no less,” he explained. “It does not matter that she was his accomplice. I did not know that at the time.”

“And that is why this… the whipping… it has happened more than once, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, but… not with them,” Aramis told him. “And… and I do not allow myself to be restrained. I will not make that mistake again.”

D’Artagnan turned to face him then and reached out to take him by the shoulders. He pulled him, unresisting, into his arms and cradled him. “Thank you for telling me,” he said. “How you endured watching what that demon did to Athos…”

Aramis chuckled against him at that. “The thought did not even occur to me then,” he said. “Or perhaps it did and I simply hid the knowledge from myself. The mind can go to great lengths to protect itself when it needs to.”

D’Artagnan continued to hold him until Aramis pulled away and sat back once more. “Would you like to return to the house?” he offered, unsure how much more conversation Aramis might be up to now. There were other, much more pleasant, things he wanted to discuss but he did not think now was the time.

“No,” Aramis told him. “I would spend some time here, with you, talking of the things that are still between us.” Aramis saw D’Artagnan’s hesitation and shook his head. “D’Artagnan, one of the reasons why I *could* tell you of this was the knowledge that, to you, it would not matter. Do not get me wrong, I know it matters to you but, at the same time, it does not. Where Athos and Porthos would have to… to reconcile what I told them with the man they know, you simply accept it as part of me. I do not have to fear you looking at me differently because, to you, nothing has changed.”

“They will not look at you differently, Aramis.”

“They will try not to,” Aramis amended. “Eventually, they will even succeed. But it will take effort on their parts whereas with you it does not. I am the very same Aramis now as I was when I walked in here. You have no idea what a rare and wondrous gift that is.”

“You are so very precious to me,” D’Artagnan told him. “And you do realize that, eventually, you will tell me who they were and I *will* kill them. I will be careful about it but they will not get away with what they have done to you.”

“Master, please,” Aramis began but D’Artagnan covered his mouth with his fingers, silencing him.

“Hush now. That is an argument for a much later time. Now, what more pleasant things can we talk about?”

“You are a menace,” Aramis told him, but allowed him to change the subject as he wished. “And I do not know if you would consider this a more pleasant topic but it is one we should discuss.”

“What is it?”

“Athos.”

“And what about Athos?” D’Artagnan prompted when Aramis offered no more than that.

“He has seen the changes within our relationship and has drawn certain conclusions about his place within your heart.”

“I am not unaware,” D’Artagnan admitted. “Though I have yet to find a way to reassure him.”

“So you have not been pulling away from him because you… love him less?” Aramis asked uncertainly.

“No, but I can see how he would think that. Although why my love for you should have any bearing on my love for him, I cannot say.”

Aramis sighed in obvious relief. He had not thought Athos correct in his assessment, but it was good to hear it from D’Artagnan’s own mouth. Now perhaps they could come up with some way to convince Athos of such. Though, Aramis did have to admit that D’Artagnan asking him to fuck him might not have been the wisest thing to do in that regard.

“What?” D’Artagnan asked when Aramis who had started to relax suddenly tensed once more.

“I was just thinking that what you said last night, about wanting me to take you, might not help your cause in this.”

“I do not see why that should matter,” D’Artagnan said. “It is not like Athos wants to. I do not know if he does not desire the act at all or simply does not want me that way, but the outcome is the same regardless.”

“You think he does not want you?” Aramis asked, stunned.

“Not like that, no,” D’Artagnan answered. “Believe me, if he did, I would have begged him to take me long before now.”

“You would rather Athos…”

“I would have my first time, well my first time truly desirous of such an act, be with him,” D’Artagnan explained. “But I do want you that way, love. Very much, in fact.”

“Let me speak with him,” Aramis said. “I do not quite understand this myself. If it is truly his preference then that is fine, none of us would push him into something he is not comfortable with. But I worry that this reluctance stems from something else.”

“You think it might have to do with what happened at the ruins?”

“That or even some incident we are unaware of,” Aramis replied. “He has had some few dalliances with men other than us. Not that they went very far but they need not always to make a lasting impression. We have only to look to my own past to see that.”

“I do still wish to lie with you that way, regardless of Athos’ desires,” D’Artagnan told him again.

“Then we shall,” Aramis promised. “But let us try to get to the heart of this matter first.”

“Alright,” D’Artagnan agreed. “So what of Porthos then?”

“Porthos?”

“We have spoken of Athos. I would know how you and Porthos fare. Is he still accepting of our relationship as it stands?”

“He has said he is,” Aramis replied. “And he has given me no reason to doubt his word in this. I know he still has some reservations but we are working through them.”

“Just remember, if it ever starts to be a problem, you have but to tell me. I will always be your brother and I will be your lover until you no longer desire me to be. But I do not have to your Master, not for you to be my Little One.”

“Master,” Aramis whispered and had to swallow around the sudden lump in his throat. 

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

While Aramis was in the barn with D’Artagnan, Athos and Porthos sat in the kitchen together. They had considered going into the sitting room but remained where they were instead. “So, did you mean what you said about letting Aramis fuck the Whelp?” Porthos asked then winced when he realized how that sounded.

Athos merely quirked an eyebrow at him then shook his head fondly. “Yes,” he replied with no small amount of exasperation. “I do not own him. He is free to do as he wishes in this regard. I will not begrudge them this. You have no need to worry.”

“Alright, fair enough,” Porthos relented. “Don’t suppose you’ve got any idea what it is Aramis’ is so worried about keeping secret, huh?”

“No,” Athos said with a frown. “And I will not make the mistake of asking again. We will have to trust in D’Artagnan where this matter is concerned. At least until Aramis feels ready to tell us.”

“I suppose,” Porthos agreed reluctantly. He did not like it, not really, but he knew they did not have much of a choice. He just had to trust that the boy would come to them if he needed to and that, eventually, Aramis would confide in them.

“I did not get the chance to really tell you before, but what we shared, it was… I do not have the words,” Athos told him.

“So, it was good then? I made it good for you?” Porthos asked. He had done his best to make it good for Athos, wanting so badly to put their past behind them. Then the thing with Aramis had happened and he had not gotten the chance to really talk to Athos about it.

“It was incredible,” Athos told him. “And I would not be averse to being with you in such a way again sometime, if you would like that.” 

Porthos stood up from the table and walked around it to stand beside Athos. He pulled him up from his seat and kissed him hungrily, letting the love and desire and *relief* he felt come through. When he pulled back, Athos was looking up at him, searching his eyes and Porthos could only look back and hope he found whatever it was he was looking for.

“You were worried,” Athos said, understanding dawning on him as he looked at Porthos. “But… why?”

“D’Artagnan is not the only brother that I fear having pushed away with my words and deeds,” Porthos admitted. “I find myself afraid of how you may look at me now after behaving the way I did.”

“I look at you no different than I always have,” Athos told him. “Neither does Aramis, I am sure. You are our brother and our lover and to protect us is instinctual for you. Sometimes, however, you have difficulty realizing that there is nothing to actually protect us from, but I can understand that as well.”

Porthos looked away. He still felt ashamed at how badly he had overreacted to what amounted to no more than a few bruises. He had spent his entire life fighting against those who would call him a thug and a brute for no other reason than how he looked. That he had proven the truth of those accusations with his own brothers left a black mark on his soul.

“Porthos, stop,” Athos said. “You are not the only one who does not react well to so much as a threat against one of the other of you. Do you not remember what I said about my meeting with Treville when he offered to allow you to be punished for what had transpired at the ruins? Had I been physically stronger, I would likely have throttled the man for even suggesting such a thing.

“And you saw how protective our dear Gascon is of Aramis,” Athos continued. “Even asking a painful question is enough to have him bristling.”

“You do not have to try to make me feel better, brother,” Porthos said, although he had to smile at Athos’ reminder of D’Artagnan’s rather large overprotective streak.

“I am not,” Athos replied. “I am stating facts. You let your temper be your guide. You will not do so again. Take it as a lesson learned and know that no one in this family holds it against you.”

“Thank you, brother,” Porthos said then dipped his head and kissed him again. He held Athos to him, enjoying the feel of having the other man in his arms. “I do love you, Athos. Please tell me you know that, that you believe that.”

“I do,” Athos told him. “I have always known and I have never doubted.”


	63. Chapter 63

Part 63

“Where’s the Whelp?” Porthos asked when Aramis entered the sitting room alone. He had expected the boy to return to the house with him.

“Finishing up in the barn,” Aramis explained. “He said he did not want to leave my saddle half finished. He should be in shortly.”

“Good,” Porthos said. He was still a touch on edge after everything and would not feel at ease until he could lay eyes on the boy again. He knew he could simply go to the barn himself but had no wish to intrude on him if he simply wanted some time to think.

“Something on your mind?” Athos asked as he took in the slight air of agitation that surrounded Aramis.

“Yes, actually,” Aramis grinned. He moved toward the divan and both men automatically parted to make room for him between them. “That was not necessary. I do not always have to be surrounded by you both.”

“And if we prefer you between us?” Athos asked, teasing lightly.

Aramis felt himself flush at the subtle entendre and chuckled. “You have but to say the word,” he told them both. “For I believe I would like nothing more than to feel both of you together in such a way.”

“Aramis,” Porthos groaned, his libido instantly sending him a rather detailed image of just what that might look like.

“But first, I would like to discuss something,” Aramis said, trying to rein in his own suddenly renewed feelings of desire.

“Then I suggest you speak quickly,” Athos told him, still teasing a bit. For as much as the thought thrilled him, he did not want D’Artagnan to come in and find the three of them so engaged. Not without him there. 

“I am not altogether sure your amorous mood will withstand the conversation,” Aramis warned him.

“That might be for the best, all things considered,” Athos replied. “Come, Aramis. Tell me what is on your mind.”

“Well… I was speaking with D’Artagnan as you know,” Aramis began, “and the discussion turned to you. He… that is we…”

“Aramis,” Athos said, stopping him. “Whatever it is, just say it.”

“Why do you not wish to take the lad?” Aramis asked bluntly. “Or me, for that matter? Is it simply a matter of preference on your part? If so, then that is fine, of course! But… I would like to know for certain.”

Athos was silent for long moments as he pondered Aramis’ question. “Why, exactly, does it matter?”

“Because D’Artagnan would have his first time, at least his first time with us, be with you but he believes you do not desire him in such a manner.”

“I desire him in all ways,” Athos said quietly.

“So it is not merely a matter of preference then,” Aramis stated then nodded. “I had thought as much. You really should tell him, you know. He will wait for you until you are ready but to allow him to think he is not desired by you in this way does him no favor. If we had not spoken of this, I could very well have taken him up on his offer.”

“As you should do,” Athos told him.

“No,” Aramis replied. “He would have that experience with you, Athos. I will not take that from either of you. I would like to try to understand your reluctance and help you if I am able, but if you do not wish to speak of it with me, I understand. But do not deprive the lad of this. Not without good reason.”

“And if I say my reasons are good?” Athos asked. “Will my word alone be enough?”

“Always,” Aramis replied. “But I would still have the lad know that it is not a lack of desire on your part that stays your hand. After that, he can make his own decision about whom he wishes to lie with.”

“It is rather unlike you not to push for answers,” Athos commented.

“And how can I, in all good faith, demand answers of you when I so closely guard my own secrets?” 

“That you do not wish to relive something that was so clearly painful to you is no fault of yours, Aramis. You will tell us when you are ready. If that day never comes, we shall still be content.”

“Then talk to me,” Aramis pleaded. He wanted desperately to help his brothers with this. D’Artagnan asked for so very little and if this was something he wanted Aramis would see him have it. But not at Athos’ expense. If his brother truly did not feel capable of such a thing then so be it. He would still have him tell D’Artagnan that it was most certainly *not* a lack of desire on Athos’ part that was the problem.

“I am not sure where to begin,” Athos said. “Part of it is my genuine preference. I find I prefer to… submit to my lovers. At least the three of you anyway. The rest is… is mere cowardice on my part.”

“Athos!” Porthos snapped. “You are no coward. Whatever your reasons they do not stem from a lack of courage, brother.”

“What is it you are afraid of?” Aramis asked, falling back on his experience drawing D’Artagnan out during their long talks to help him now.

“Failing him. Disappointing him. *Hurting* him.” These fears and more were what truly stopped him. His wife, duplicitous whore that she was, had always taken great delight in showing him every mark he left on her in his passion, every bruise his too grasping hands had caused. She had enjoyed teasing and tormenting him past the point of reason and would then spend days shaming him for his loss of control. 

“You could not disappoint that boy if you tried,” Porthos told him. “And you would never do anything to harm him.”

“I am quite sure my wife would disagree,” Athos replied. 

“Former wife,” Aramis reminded him. “And I am quite sure the lying bitch would disagree with any number of things. However, if she told me the sky was blue I would still seek confirmation.”

“What did she do to you?” D’Artagnan asked from the doorway. He had come inside a short time ago and had heard his lovers talking in the sitting room. He had not intended to eavesdrop but he had not wanted to interrupt Aramis when it appeared he might actually be getting through to the other man.

“D’Artagnan,” Athos said, startled. He had been so lost in his memories that he had not heard the younger man’s approach. 

“Please,” D’Artagnan pled as he moved over to them. Aramis and Porthos quickly moved to make room for him and he slid into the midst of them, slotting himself into place as naturally as breathing. “I will not push you in this and neither will the others, but I would know what it is that she did to you to make you mistrust yourself so.”

“Very well,” Athos relented. He owed D’Artagnan, and Porthos and Aramis as well, his honesty. His brothers had done so much to help him lay his past to rest. He hoped that, one day soon, it would no longer rear its ugly head and attempt to destroy all that he had found. 

“Would you rather us go?” Porthos asked, willing to give Athos and the boy privacy if it would make things easier on the man.

“No,” Athos said with a small smile. “I would have no secrets between us save those that must be kept for sanity’s sake. These are just… shameful to admit, though I do know that the fault was not entirely my own.”

“So tell us,” D’Artagnan said. “Tell us so we can make you see that, whatever it is, it will not matter to us. There will never be a day we do not trust you completely. If you cannot trust your own judgment in this, then try to trust in ours.”

“My former wife very much enjoyed manipulating all those around her,” he began. “Especially me. She would… goad me… antagonize me… tease me until the point of losing control. She would… would beg me to take her roughly and give herself completely to the act. Later that night or the next day, however, was a different story. 

“She would tell me how brutish I had been with her, how I had hurt her… frightened her. When I pointed out that she had only encouraged me on, she would claim that she had been too afraid to resist. She would even go so far as to feign being in pain, sometimes to such a degree that she said she could not leave the bed.”

“Oh Athos,” Aramis sighed, closing his eyes against his friend’s shared pain. He could easily picture her manipulating a much younger and less experienced Athos in such a way, egging him on then berating him for it afterwards.

“I offered, of course, to fetch a doctor at once to see to her,” Athos continued. “She always declined, saying she could not bear for anyone else to find out how… how I had hurt her… had brutalized her. And before you say it, I realize that she was lying, that she was manipulating me but the fact remains that I *did* lose control with her.”

“Athos, look at me,” D’Artagnan told him. He waited until the other man was looking him in the eyes before he continued. “I am not Milady. I am not a woman nor am I a child. I am not weaker than you. You may be the better swordsman, but if I want you off of me, I will have no trouble ensuring you comply.”

“He is right, you know,” Aramis added softly. “And while I do not for one second believe you would ever lose control with one of us, we are all of us more than capable of stopping things if necessary.”

“There is something else you seem to be forgetting as well, brother,” Porthos said as well. 

“And what might that be?” Athos asked hesitantly.

“That you have brothers,” Porthos replied. “Did we not have them there, with us, for this very reason? Is that not why the Whelp had us there when he took control of Aramis the first time? We are all of us new to this in one way or another. You do not trust yourself. Fine. Then like the lad said, trust in us and know we would never allow you to lose control to the point of harming one of us.”

“And I am not some fragile flower that would be crushed by a strong hand,” D’Artagnan told him. “I do not mind bruises on my skin if they are put there by my lover’s hand. None of us do.”

“Some of us even like it,” Aramis quipped, trying to lighten things a bit.

“Yes, we do,” Athos huffed softly, remembering the bruises Porthos hands had left on his own hips.

“I will not push you in this,” D’Artagnan told him. “If you do not wish to lie with me that way then that is all you need say. But do not hold yourself back out of needless fear.”

“Porthos,” Aramis began, turning toward the other man. “What do you say you and I make ourselves a bit scarce tonight? I do believe these two could use some time to… settle a few things between them.”

“That is not necessary,” Athos said, not wanting the other two to feel they needed to take themselves off somewhere.

“It is very necessary,” Porthos countered. “You and the Whelp need to talk without us leaning over your shoulders.”

“Do not worry, we shall not go far,” Aramis promised.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” D’Artagnan said before Athos could object again. “Make sure to take your pistols with you.”

“Yes, Mother,” Aramis replied as he stood up and offered a hand to Porthos. With a last look, they left the pair alone and headed outside, intent on giving the others some privacy.

“You think the lad will be able to get through to him?” Porthos asked as they entered the barn.

“I am not sure,” Aramis admitted. “But if nothing else, he will make sure Athos knows that his place within D’Artagnan’s heart is as secure as ever. How the man could doubt the lad’s love for him is simply beyond me.”

“To be fair, the boy’s been a bit caught up in you of late,” Porthos said, trying to be gentle.

“I am aware,” Aramis sighed. “But his feelings for me do not lessen his feelings for Athos. Or do you think me wrong? I mean, do your feelings for Athos or D’Artagnan somehow lessen your love for me?”

“Of course not,” Porthos growled then stopped and forced himself to calm down. “I see your point. Let’s hope the lad’s as good at fighting dirty as you are, love. If he is, Athos doesn’t stand a chance.”

Back in the sitting room, Athos was tense. While he wanted to talk to D’Artagnan the sense of foreboding he felt left him hesitant. It was clear he and Aramis had spoken of him at length. While that did not bother him, he had to wonder what it meant for his relationship with the other man. 

“You are thinking quite loudly, love,” D’Artagnan told him. “Would you be more comfortable if we went back to our room?”

“At least you are calling it *our* room again,” Athos mused then nodded. He knew he would have an easier time of it if he was not worried about Aramis and Porthos suddenly interrupting them. 

“I am sorry for that,” D’Artagnan apologized. “I was not thinking clearly before and let my fear speak for me. I shall do my best not to let that happen again.”

“You were protecting yourself,” Athos said softly. “Believe me when I say I understand. I cannot promise to never hurt you again, but I will do my very best to never make you feel the need to protect yourself in such a way again.”

They settled into their room quickly after that, with D’Artagnan even going so far as to lock the door to ensure that they were not interrupted. The look of relief on Athos’ face ensured him that he had made the right decision. He knew Athos did not truly mind the others knowing of any of this but he was an intensely private man by nature and it was difficult for him to let that go at times.

Lying together on the bed, D’Artagnan curled along Athos’ side. He let his head rest on Athos’ shoulder and simply enjoyed the feeling of being held. Whenever he was with Aramis, he tended to be the one offering comfort and shelter. It was nice to be the one being held again.

He had felt the tension in Athos’ body when they had first lain down, as if he was unsure if D’Artagnan would accept him in the more dominant role, so to speak. He had decided to let his actions speak for him and, slowly, Athos began to relax. 

“There are some things I need to say to you,” D’Artagnan began without moving from where he lay. “I need you to try to listen to them rather than simply dismissing them out of hand. Can you do that for me?”

“I can,” Athos told him. He was not sure where this was going, but he would listen to what the young man in his arms had to say.

“Then let me start by saying that I love you,” D’Artagnan began. He reached out and took Athos’ free hand in his own and held it. He could practically feel the man’s heart start to pound in his chest and he ached to comfort him. “I love you now as I have always loved you. My feelings for you have not changed.”

“But they have,” Athos insisted softly.

“No, they have not. Not fundamentally,” D’Artagnan argued. “Why do you think my love for Aramis somehow diminishes my love for you? Are you truly telling me that your love for me has caused you to love Aramis any less?”

Athos froze at that. He had not thought of it that way. He knew that, for himself, his feelings for D’Artagnan and Porthos in no way affected how very much he loved Aramis. They could not. They were simply not the same thing. Still, it was hard for Athos to believe that things between him and D’Artagnan had not changed.

“No,” Athos replied at last. “But even you must admit that the intensity of your feelings for Aramis has grown much stronger than any of us anticipated.”

“So because I love him differently than I love you it must somehow be more or better?” D’Artagnan countered. He was trying to understand where Athos’ uncertainties stemmed from. “Yes, what I have with Aramis is, at times, intense. Yes, it is a great deal of responsibility as well. None of that, however, has any effect on my feelings… my love and desire… for you.

“Aramis will not always need me as he does now. He has gone without having this need met for so long that he cannot help but grasp at the opportunity when it presents itself. If you need me to spend less time with him, you have but to say. He will understand.”

“No,” Athos said at once. “I would never ask that of either of you. That you are there for him… I am so grateful. But it is hard not to ask myself why you would want to be with me when he has so much more to offer.”

“I am so sorry,” D’Artagnan told him sadly. “That I have given you cause to think such a thing wounds me greatly. I love you, Athos. I love you as much today as I did when this all began. I am only sorry you cannot believe me.”

“I am trying,” Athos told him honestly. “Be patient with me?”

“Always,” D’Artagnan said, his voice rough with the emotions he struggled to hold inside. “I accept you on your terms. As much or as little as you wish to give me.”

“But…”

“There is no but,” D’Artagnan told him. “I will never ask for more than you are willing to give.”

“That you will not ask for it does not stop you from wanting it,” Athos told him.

“I am used to wanting,” D’Artagnan said, shrugging as much as he could while lying against Athos as he was.

“Aramis said you wished your first time to be with me,” Athos told him outright, unwilling to dance around the subject. “At least your first time amongst us.”

“I do,” D’Artagnan confirmed. “But if it is not something you want then I do not want it.”

“I do want you that way,” Athos told him. “But I am afraid. I do not want to lose control and hurt you. That would end me as surely as a sword through the heart.”

“You will not. I know this, but if it eases you, our brothers would be there for us as we have been for them. You know this.”

“I do,” Athos conceded. “I… I do not… I do not wish to disappoint you.”

“How could you even think…?”

“This is not your natural inclination,” Athos interrupted. “To allow yourself to be taken in such a manner goes against that even more. I suppose there is some part of me that still worries about… satisfying you.”

D’Artagnan turned his head so that he could look at the other man. “Athos, you satisfy me simply by being near me. It is true, other men… men not my brothers… men I do not love with all my heart and soul… do not rouse me in any way. You, though, you can set my blood on fire with but a *look*.”

All at once, Athos gripped D’Artagnan tightly and rolled over so that he was lying atop the younger man. He looked down at his startled face for a moment then was kissing him hungrily. His lover’s words had not only reassured him of his place within his heart but had stoked the desire inside of him to a blaze.

D’Artagnan did not react for a moment, then he was kissing Athos back fiercely. He let his hands come to rest on the man’s waist, holding him flush against him. He could feel Athos’ erection pressing into his hip and he moaned into the man’s mouth as his own body reacted to his lover’s unexpected display of want.

“Tell me… tell me what you want,” Athos panted into his mouth when they finally broke their frantic kiss. 

“You,” D’Artagnan answered at once. 

“And how does my Gascon want me?” Athos asked, teasing a bit as he tried to get his desire under control.

“In my mouth,” D’Artagnan said suddenly. “I want to taste you… feel you… breathe you…”

“Yes, yes that,” Athos growled in a rather impressive impersonation of Porthos. He rolled off the younger man so they could shed their clothes. He wanted to see his lover’s skin and feel it beneath his hands as he brought him pleasure. And he wanted to feel that sinful mouth wrapped around his flesh, taking him into himself in a prelude of what he knew would one day come.

Naked, Athos turned back to D’Artagnan. He pulled him into his arms and kissed him hard. “How do want me?” he asked

“Stand up,” D’Artagnan told him huskily then slid off the bed and onto his knees in front of him. He wasted no time in taking Athos’ hard cock in hand. He stroked it once then opened his mouth and took the head inside, moaning aloud at the taste and feel of his lover.

“Fuck,” Athos swore. His hands automatically went to D’Artagnan’s head and sank into his hair. He tried not to thrust, holding his hips as still as he could. The feel of his lover’s mouth, hot and wet, as it slid down his cock, taking more and more of him in was wreaking havoc with his self-control.

Pulling back for a moment, D’Artagnan looked up at Athos. He could see the desire raging in his eyes and it made his own cock throb in want. “Do it,” he said as he mouthed at the head again. “Fuck my mouth.”

Athos felt his legs grow weak and had to lock his knees in place. He tightened his grip on D’Artagnan’s hair and began to push his cock back inside the other man’s mouth. He felt him put his hands on his thighs to brace himself and Athos began to thrust, shallowly at first then deeper as D’Artagnan merely groaned and took him in.

Before he even realized it, Athos was thrusting fully into D’Artagnan’s mouth. He could feel the younger man gag when his cock touched the back of his throat but he did not pull back so Athos kept going. He trusted D’Artagnan to know his own limits and to stop him should he go too far. With that in mind, Athos gave himself over to their coupling, letting his need and desire push him to use his lover’s mouth even faster.

Sooner than he would have liked, Athos felt the tension building at the base of his spine that signaled his eminent release. He was panting hard as he continued to fuck his lover’s mouth as deeply as he could without choking him overmuch. “I am… I am going to spend,” he gasped.

He had expected D’Artagnan to pull back at his warning but the boy merely keened and tried to take him in even deeper. The knowledge that D’Artagnan wanted him, desired him, so much was the last stimulus Athos needed and he shoved forward hard and began to spend down his lover’s throat.

D’Artagnan could only moan weakly and hold onto Athos’ hips as his lover began to spend. He felt completely surrounded by the other man and reveled in it. His own cock throbbed painfully, but he ignored it, not wanting to miss a moment of Athos’ pleasure.

When he was finally spent, Athos was half bent over D’Artagnan, breathing harshly as his legs threatened to give out on him. He released the grip he still had on his head and straightened. The movement caused his softening cock to slip from D’Artagnan’s lax mouth and he shuddered as the air touched his sensitive flesh.

He looked down at D’Artagnan then and saw that he was still on his knees, bent over slightly himself. That was when Athos realized that his lover had not yet spent. Reaching down, he slid his hands under his arms and lifted him to his feet then turned and pressed him down onto their bed. Lying down beside him, he took D’Artagnan’s flushed and weeping cock in hand and began to stroke. He had only managed two quick pulls before his lover was tensing and spilling over his hand, the sound of his name on D’Artagnan’s lips as he did so more gratifying than anything. After a perfunctory cleaning, Athos gathered his spent and shaking lover into his arms and held him close, content and at peace.

&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M&M

“’Tis beautiful,” Porthos remarked of the secluded glade Aramis had brought them to. It was the same one Athos had taken him to all those weeks ago. He thought Porthos might appreciate the peacefulness of it right now.

“Yes,” Aramis agreed. He tethered their horses then spread out a blanket on the ground for them to sit upon. Once they were comfortably seated, he leaned toward Porthos and kissed him lightly on the lips. 

“Did we come here for any particular reason?” Porthos asked as he took in their surroundings. It was… tranquil in a way little in their lives was. He could understand why Aramis would be drawn to this place.

“Only to enjoy each other’s company,” Aramis told him. “Athos took me here once and I have not had a chance to return since. I thought I might share it with you.”

“I’m glad you did,” Porthos told him. 

“You do not have to worry, you know,” Aramis told him, sensing his concern for their absent pair. “D’Artagnan will ensure that Athos knows was mistaken in thinking D’Artagnan’s feelings for him had lessened in any way.”

Porthos looked at Aramis then, trying to decide if his lover actually believed that. He knew that he *wanted* it to be that way, but he was not certain that it was.

Aramis saw the look Porthos gave him at his words and sighed. “I know how it must look, that my needs have caused D’Artagnan to neglect Athos.”

“Hey, no,” Porthos said quickly. He had not meant to make Aramis feel guilty for needing the boy. 

“Well, as I said, he is fixing that as we speak so all is well,” Aramis said. “But there is something else that troubles you, isn’t there?”

Porthos hesitated then finally asked the question that had plagued him since his outburst where each of his brothers was concerned. “Are *we* alright?” 

Aramis stared at him, taken aback, then frowned. “Why ever would we not be?” he asked, confused.

“I know how much the lad means to you,” Porthos shrugged. “I worried that my treatment of him might cause you to rethink what is between us – whether you truly want to tie yourself to such a man.”

“Such a man?” Aramis repeated narrowing his eyes. “You mean a mortal man? A fallible man? One that makes mistakes but has the strength and honor to make amends for them? Yes, Porthos, I am *quite* sure.”

Porthos nodded but did not reply. His throat felt tight, choked with all the words he could not seem to get out as relief so strong it was nearly overwhelming washed through him.

“Do you… Is it… Do you feel as Athos does?” Aramis asked suddenly worried himself now. “Is that it? Do you think what I have with D’Artagnan has somehow lessened what I feel for you?”

“No,” Porthos said earnestly, instinctively wanting to erase the distress in Aramis’ voice. “I know that you have a seemingly unlimited capacity to love and your love for one of us in no way changes your love for any other.”

Aramis relaxed then, reassured that he had not been so caught up in his own needs that he had neglected Porthos of all people. For that, to him, would be the most unforgiveable of sins. 

“Hey now,” Porthos said trying to draw Aramis back out of his head. He could see the emotions flitting through his eyes. “It’s not like that. Like Athos, I am glad that D’Artagnan can meet those needs for you. If not for him, well you know we would try, love. We would do anything for you. But I am sure you are wise enough to know that we would… would not do well. And the thought of you going to someone else, someone outside of our circle… I do not know if I could bear it. To risk you being hurt again…”

“Shhh,” Aramis said, covering Porthos’ mouth with his hand lightly. “I will never do such a thing again. Even if D’Artagnan decided tomorrow that he could no longer be my… be with me that way, I would not seek such a thing elsewhere.”

“You can call him your Master,” Porthos told him. “I am getting used to it. And I’m glad you would not try to find such things with a stranger but I am even more glad that you do not need to, thanks to the lad. I would not see you suffer and I know it is a type of suffering for you. I may not completely understand all of it, but I do understand that much.”

“Thank you,” Aramis told him. “You have no idea how much it eases me that you can accept this part of me and not… not think me disgusting or sick.”

“I would never!”

“I know,” Aramis said, smiling softly at him. “You have always accepted me for who and what I am. Which is why one day, very soon, I will tell you and Athos all of the things that I have not yet. I know you will not judge me and that you will not truly look at me differently once you know, but I cannot help but still fear.”

“I think I understand,” Porthos said. “I can promise you, we will not look at you differently, but… it may take a bit for the knowledge to settle… for us to see you as *you* again rather than through the lens of what we have learned. And that is what you fear, is it not, brother?”

“Yes,” Aramis gasped. He had to close his eyes to keep the sudden tears that filled them from falling. For Porthos to know what held him back, know and understand, was as if a great stone had been lifted from his chest allowing him to breathe once more.

Porthos grabbed him then and pulled him close, maneuvering him until he was sitting in his lap. He kissed his lips gently then kissed each closed eye before gently wiping away the tears that had managed to slip out despite his efforts.

“I love you, Aramis,” Porthos told him. “Heart and soul, I love you. I accept you as you are, good parts and bad. And there is nothing you can say, nothing you can show me that will ever change that. We are together. Until the day they put us in the ground and even then I hope we might be take that final rest side by side.”

End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally!! I ended it here because I thought this was a good resolution to all that had gone on. It's not all fixed, but it's on it's way to being. The next story in the series will pick up pretty much close on the heels of this one. I hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I did.


End file.
